The City Doesn’t Remind You Of Her, Because She Is The City

Books The City Doesn’t Remind You Of Her, Because She Is The City

Here is a poem by Alejandro Alvarez on how the urban landscape can be a reflection of desire, memory, and love.

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She Is the City

You suddenly lose your footing and are left hanging off the cliff, between the person you are and who you want to be. All the 'would have’s' and 'could have been’s' make a beeline in your mind. You imagine the stories you have yet to tell, the words still unspoken, and the now lifeless sighs, waiting for someone to come and take them.

You see your reflection in the mirror, and know it’s not you anymore. The other has taken hold of your image, your shadow, your late nights. You’ve reached the point where the walls you built to protect yourself have started to crumble in front of you.

Then all you can think of is her scent, her lips, her words, her silence. You allow yourself to sink into the madness of a love that is skin deep.

You keep going. You refuse to lose your essence, yet you are no longer alone. You are trapped in a duality: it’s her or you. Sleepless nights become a constant. You walk the city streets with no particular destination, your gaze unfocused, your mind lost. Ideas fall apart before they materialize. They’re so hazy, you feel as if you’ve stepped into a new reality.

At the end, you realize it’s all changed. It’s not the city that reminds you of her. She is the city. Each street, every corner, all those sounds, and the poems you wrote on nights full of insomnia, none of them belong to you anymore. They now live in this metropolis. That’s why you remember her with each step. That is how you bury oblivion. You close your eyes and the echo of her voice takes over. You open your eyes and she is all you see.

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Looking for more poetry? Check out Music Bleeds As You Sing or My Brain Cries, My Body Explodes.

Translated by María Suárez