Sunday, September 27, 2015

It's NYC



I miss
my heartbeat times a million
others singing in tune.
Tell me why my footsteps don’t always match
my city
my hometown because aren't you supposed to grow roots there 
too?


In New York you can live in the shittiest apartment and be fine, because you aren't confined. There's a huge city to see. There's always something to do. In New York, there are seasons. Cold, windy days, days when it pours and you never want to be wet again after. Days when it snows enough to cause traffic and days when it gets so hot your bare skin could blister on the pavement. 

New York is ALIVE.  It has this vitality, originality, such a distinct feel to it. 

I remember the chill in the air.

I want to live in this
city of bright lights
trapped between philosophers and homeless men
both of them dreamers walking on
blurred lines.

Tell me why I’m always either thousand miles away
or on the other side of the world
yet every day all I can breathe is
New York.
New York
my city, my love
wait up for me
it’ll take time but I’ll make it home, you see I’m
desperate, searching
trying to find a way out of the
city I was born in
my love for my home runs deep but 
I can't stay here forever.


Mistakes come easy as breathing.


let me breathe in your night-sky,
deli-coffee-and-corner-hot-dog scent
grab on to the railing with two hands as the sun sets 
beyond the Empire State Building.
I'm a tourist for now but I don't care my
legs are quaking in awe not fear so
let me catch my breath as dawn passes Lady Liberty 
standing proud above the crashing water.
Bring me to the park again, that
                           how did they manage this? 
mass of greenery in the middle of the big city.
Let me run past steaming grates and garbage heaps in the morning, listening to the city wake up
clanking metal and men with briefcases murmuring on their phones
balancing coffee and briefcases and that first important business call of the day-
or that last minute goodbye to their wives.
Mistresses
children, who knows,
they've all got stories.
Let me watch as the city comes to life,
beautiful and disgusting but that's
real life, isn't it?
People from all over the country
all over the world
collide in this fondue of cultures and lifestyles.



It’s a scene from your favorite movie
the one where there’s no happy ending, not
quite what you expect but you’re satisfied
fulfilled
because what’s meant to be has finally shifted into something that
is.
New York.

The first place I felt like I belonged because I didn’t feel like
I had to.



I'm homesick for this city I've never spent more than a week in.

I want the dirty streets, the sound of rain splashing across paved sidewalks, bouncing off my raincoat. I want the honks and squeals of impatient cab drivers, tires swearing on wet roads. I want to see streetlights and headlights reflected in puddles, fog hanging in the damp air as the night workers retire from their shifts and business men don trench coats to face the grey dawn approaching.

I want to walk, fast, to work past houses mades of bricks and crawling with ivy, with wrought iron over the upper windows; past short stairs leading to cramped stoops.

I want to fall asleep to the city's noisy lullaby; to wake up, refreshed or hungover, to the same.

I want to exist knowing that every second's humming is filled with the dreams and wild ambitions of the thousands of other people surrounding me, carrying me along with them. I want to walk past a bodega and see the tulips that promise spring is on it's way, stop at one of the city's many juice bars for a pick-me-up and a dash of happiness.

I can feel in my core.
When people ask me what my future holds
I imagine New York.


Leaving New York was the hardest thing in the world. It was my dream, my world within my grasp but leaving wrenched it from my fingertips.


Bright lights. City streets and the beat of the night as it follows you home.
It’s intangible, surreal… tonight is the night you’re free.

Sit down on cold pavement and breathe in the songs of the forlorn
the lost, the lonely
the wicked
and those who simply never cared.

Midnight glinting off buildings on water
floating upside down like puddles filled with jewels.


Why New York? Why this city? Why doesn’t anything else come close?
dream big they scream
work hard and fight!.
                        every damn day.
It’s hard hearts and harsh lives and butterflies that
shudder, break and burn
fragile things collapse here but I want it
crave it
need it, bleed it.
It’s intangible. An emotion. A thread tied to your heart and knotted to the shores of Manhattan...
you aren’t as free as you believe.
Connected to the beat that pulls you home
like swimming when the tides have wrapped themselves around your waist
dragging you down but you’re
happy because you know it's
home.


What we have now is a girl in love, but not with any man.
In love with the soul of this city.
How could you not be, when the place is so filled with its own heartbeat?  
There’s nowhere else on earth she feels so connected to. The city calls out to her, understands her. 

She listens to it and knows how to answer.


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