The City That Never Sleeps in My Mind

They told me cities are made of concrete, glass, and steel.
But mine is made of memories, whispers, and things I never said.

It’s always twilight there. The sky is painted in shades of gold and blue, as if the sun and moon made a secret pact to meet halfway.

The streets are endless. Some lead to places I know — my old school, my grandmother’s garden, the little coffee shop where I learned to dream. Others twist and disappear into fog, and I never find out where they end.

There’s music in the air, but no one can find the source. It feels like the city itself is humming to keep me company.

I wander alone, but I’m never lonely.
Every corner holds a version of me — laughing, crying, waiting, running.
They look at me as I pass, like they’re silently asking:

"Will you stay here forever, or will you wake up?"

I never answer.
Because I’m not sure I want to know.

Photo from canva