Layover

I thought it would be okay. I didn't even miss it that much; I was so set on continuing onwards. Tomorrow another flight, this is just a stopover, it doesn't even count, don't worry about it. But my heart broke the moment we ran on the tarmac, the moment the cab crossed the Williamsburg Bridge, the moment we stepped out around the corner from my old house and I was home.

There is a darkness that only exists on New York streets after sunset, despite all the lights, despite all the energy, there are black spots into which I sink comfortably and never want to leave. There is a feeling at the back of my spine that says there is no need for questions, because the answers are all right here.

Tomorrow is another flight, tomorrow is another country and I know I must bet on it, I must fight for it. I will be fine. It's just tonight that tears at my gut and screams in my heart, reminding me what I have left, sings to me what I have lost.

It's just tonight that breaks my heart, and I don't know how to make it whole, again.