A Correspondence With New York
By: ShinigamiForever

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XVI. the last letter, or on goodbyes

in the hour
before the curtains were just being swept apart
and the birds where just ungluing themselves from their perch,
he packed his empty bags
and left.
he took a metal bird
up into the sky and looked down on me and New York,
still sleeping.
he found his reasons
in some other big city
in a maze of buildings and streets.

I, still asleep under a heavy blanket of regret,
pressed myself against the memory of New York
and the way it made him smile.
I will not follow him this time.
New York pulls at me like a young baby,
wanting to be amused.
let it laugh at my antics.
let me be forever in its grasp.

just let him, on the wings of his mechanical eagle,
be content in some other city
and not come back to New York.

New York,
where he and I lost dreams to a solid gray sky.

New York,
where he and I lost ourselves to the city.

New York is
and always will be.



A/N: My favorite to date.

The story, I think, is like this.

The narrator is mostly a she, although in certain poems I feel as if it should be a he. The he or you in the poem is a friend that seems bounded to the narrator, and she feels the need to follow him, in case there could be some chance of understanding. When they both tumble into New York, they find themselves becoming more and more lost. He ends up flying away, while she stays behind, sort of like a sacrifice for him.

It's an odd story, I know.