Mornings in Mexico City

Synchronicity.

City of lights… and the dawn creeps over:

Morning time.

Hide my face while you’re inside me in our most honest hours.

You’ve only seen me by the glow of multicoloured stained glass protecting my filament.

You think I’m yellow and blue and orange but I’m metallic: twisted and jagged just like you. 

Take a hold of my hand 

then you fly home while I keep my feet planted in my ground, 

and you’re somehow even more stubborn. So we’re stretched like a coil 

but we won’t let go ..so there’s a connection 

and two fiery ends and two voices 

but no proper conversation.

Good bye, now.