Last Day in Elbour

Coming into the port today I stared at the city and for a brief moment it stared back at me. One million windows or a one million eyed beast called m-elbour-ne, but then again every window could have a face behind it so maybe there was more eyes seeing me than I first thought.

The reflection of our ship in it's eyes looked almost as if there were a million ships sailing into harbour. More so, it could be in 2 million eyes and what a great sight it would be to see all those people that see me, but it would soon be time for the all the windows to close and the people to leave their imperturbable iron beast as we were to come up onto it as it slept. I was unfamiliar with this city so I wondered, would it sleep on it's chest only to expose what weight it carries or would it rest on it's back only to expose it's heart. For a heart gives the life of bustling blood but the burden gives a veracious whisper of redamancy.

As the day rolled over onto it's back the tender belly of the night was exposed. The sojourn light's awoke illuminating the faces of the stultified people. I thought maybe this was all elbour had to offer, a fleet of workers that had opted to work in the clouds rather than dream in them, albeit I let myself nestle deep into the hours of the night and saw the glut of socialite's leave their suns and flicker into the streets.

That's when I saw you, lithe from the labours of a lugubrious life. Your torn sleeves on your rustic dress gave it a new spark but it appeared as if that spark had slowly been moving outwards from your centre and it were at it's last stop before it would leave you. I thought that maybe the slowly moving sheet of the night might have covered your eyes and encouraged a sidling melancholia, so I would approach to ask how you were. As I made my way down the steps to your curb I was almost at the fringe of your personal bubble and I would leave my own bubble to enter yours, but before I could you saw me staring.

You shouted "From foreign feelings we form fate but who knew what Cupid would take as remunerate?" before you spun on your heel and ran away.

Leaving nothing but the image of your dress flirting with the air, looking as if it were something a costumier would put on a mannequin 4 years ago, or maybe alike to a woman from a popular arbor whom had just come from old sheets.

If I did not see you here I would have never seen you but only as a doll in the window.