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We don’t understand it, but the truth is we’ve never seen you so happy.

The sun beams over the Bowery, you make the flowers bloom, you make the city twist and turn at your will, this visit is your curated charm tour to convince them your life is exactly as you’d planned, exactly as you’d hoped, this city is the significant other you hope they’ll adore because here’s the thing, you’re staying together whether they do or not. The magnolias fatten up along the River, swell in pinks and can’t wait to explode, and isn’t that life? He writes to say all he wants is to make your life better, but it’s like he hasn’t been reading the ticker tape.

I make this life better. I bring this sunshine, I water these flowers, I carry these weights like balloons on my wrists, I am not sorry.

But when the time comes to pick these flowers, don’t for a second think I’m not filling my own windowsills with their songs. If I let myself burn to ashes, don’t think I won’t also let myself rise out of them, too.