My love is atomic. Our reaction exothermic.
Strong enough to power stars,
or level a city.

I spent most of that day debating when to tell you I loved you, the city was beautiful but my focus was you.

I had to decide.

Which monument to add a memory of unbearable weight to.

Which park to love until I didn't.

The hesitation wasn't out of unsureness, I knew. Everything was horribly impermanent back then.

Nothing was without risk.

We colided and became glimmering starlight.

Before leaving I held you and told you then, I don't think you heard me and that's where this ends.

Of course my love didn't exist in a vacuum, unsuitable conditions cut short what we were and what could have been us, for another year?

Decade?
Month?
Hour?

We were impermanent, now all that we are is condensed into memories, photos and places I don't go anymore.

Another city gone.