I’m in love with you even though you aren’t mine, the same way something has to be, that belongs to me because I belong to it. When sunshine falls on your glass walls and lights you up in a sheen that can hardly be matched, and when the setting sun kindles your twinkling lights, it sends ripples of fantasy through me. You’re a dream I have every night, a paradise where my lost soul seeks solace. I romanticize you out of proportion. And in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in life and in death, I’ll seek you and I’ll keep coming back to you.
New York, I miss you.