Love Letters

Again, again, how many days and weeks and years can it still feel so new, so sweet, how long can I love you like this they didn't tell me this was ever how it could be. I ran down the west side at sunset today, past the throngs of summer dresses and carefree strollers, crossed Washington Square Park with boys holding hands and women in hijabs, the Empire State Building behind them and all the skyscrapers painted in that velvety blue light of sweltering summer evenings. Again, again, the crooked piles of brick buildings, the hum of the avenues, aligned my senses and recalibrated my insides until everything felt just right. Again, again I thought I love this place more than I knew I knew how to love anything and it's been thirteen years don't you dare tell me that shit's not for real. 

New York, my love, it turns out you - in all your madness - are the one thing that makes me sane. That I have found a place that brings me peace, that I have found a place where all my crooked pieces fit into a whole. New York you make me think that finding love is really just finally coming home.