I was. Thinking in poetry again.
Green-blue constellation eyes. Staring. Back.
I inhaled now and stopped wishing for when.
I straightened my spine and felt my bones crack.
A bounce in my step and new aura glow;
Like there’s no longer a possible stop.
And never invention of the word no.
The expansion of my heart. Stomach drop.
What I didn’t say came out through my pores.
Sunlight showers washing my grey sky days.
Opening windows and taking down doors.
Reinvention of love, finding new ways.
His puzzle piece body completes my spread –
A hydrated desert. Appetite fed.
I bumped my head the night we met and never saw things the same way again.
The second day I saw him, we walked down a boardwalk along a salt-scented Brooklyn coastline. He wore sweatpants and a baseball hat and we talked about him being first generation and me having left for a decade. We comment on the different shades of green blossoms in each other’s eyes. He kisses me at Cony Island, on the subway and all other kinds of pubic places. Continue reading
I became a magnet on 2nd Ave;
I turned to attraction, drawn to his core.
Becoming who you are, not what you have.
Exceeding physical with pull and lure.
I awoke the next day, drawn to the sky.
My thoughts, soul and heart – a new direction.
Grounded at last, a reborn style of flight.
Perpetually stuck to this reflection.
We fit like spirit with facts of science.
Every thought magnetic, every heartbeat.
Becoming vital with no reliance.
When opposite dissipates truth can meet.
Our body’s attraction, merged into one.
Eternal connection. Never undone.
i can. feel…
i have this
i am stretching
while he pulls
i am twisting.
(and i suddenly
_________________view lifetimes in—)
side. his eyes.
like i do not
have to tell
I’m on the corner of 44th Street and 3rd Avenue at 8 in the morning, when midtown is just as hopping as the meat packing district at 4am. Every creed and color pours up and down avenues, in and out of transport hubs. There’s so many of us, it’s like no one even notices each other.
We kiss on the cheek in the amicable style we’re each trying to adjust to. This is what it means to make friends with someone you used to fuck. I’m 37 years old, I haven’t done this to date. I’m still uncertain that I’m going to start now.
There’s something beautiful to me about standing in the center of Manhattan wearing sweatpants I slept in with messy bed hair. You never know where life will take you.
The cold February prick of winter stings my cheeks as I turn to walk home. I try to be a good host and always escort guests to their destination. That’s part of why I love living in my neighborhood, there’s 24-hour transportation that can literally get you anywhere in the world. That’s how I ended up living in Australia for ten years.
I originally left New York City for love and I came back because of heartbreak. Both times I was saved, for different reasons. There was at least one solid lesson that came of it all, anyways; your heart only breaks once.
FollowMeToNYC is a creative processing ground which expresses individual ideas that often change with the tides. Naturally, these ideas do not reflect those of any of my employers, or anyone else you might see me wandering down the street with one day.