Read it through once

I tried to soothe you with words. I told you that the city was full of lights, that the night was young, that there were good things yet to be done. You drew your breath in, and the tears came back and fell upon your hands. 'It is not that,' you said. 'It is not the city's fault, nor the night; it is only that I remember certain faces, and certain voices, and certain promises which were once given and are now broken.'