amsterdam

It’s as if the place is irrelevant.
Danish bricks don’t replace the gush of a kiss.
A canal can’t fix a fraying thread of a heart.
But you can find a stranger
who sounds like home,
  with funny words
   and hands like maps.
That hum of where you came from.

I didn’t fall in love with a city.
My hazy brain,
  my smoke-filled veins,
    owe their daze to the people who float
          through the streets, whilst the city sleeps
             at 2am.
My memories
flooding the walls of the hotel room they woke up in.