The skyline was a canvas of infinite specks
of dust that flitted through your imagination
and burned brighter every waking moment 
you breathed in the excitement

The city that created your dreams and
painted your mind. This tough exterior
of steel and fancy lights that illuminated the
barren souls that walked the streets at night

The people that were bound to the charm of the city,
the hope that it emanated, was it just a disguise?
The sinful entertainment that consumed the city’s 
nightlife burned a radiant hole in the canvas

The shatter of the bottle on the asphalt,
fragile lives that sat like roulettes, flickering 
between the rows of towers that defined
the city.

What once was called a city of dreams
was washed away by a blot that
stained the specks of dust,
each a constellation of stars
in its own entirety