Y
ou are the soft crunch of a freshly toasted bagel from Absolute in the morning and the first sweet sip of a mocha from Joe. You are the coveted seat during rush hour on the Downtown 1 on a Thursday morning. You are the leap in my heart when I look up at the skyscrapers in Midtown that I am somehow privileged to traverse between.You are the lazy hum of Central Park on a Sunday morning, the dogs that run up to me despite their begrudging owners.You’re the street performers, the East Village punks, the women in extravagant fur coats that make me smile as I walk by.You’re the hush of an exhibit buried deep in the Met and the roaring pit of an alt rock concert.You’re a whirlwind, a storm, a fantastic sensory overload that always keeps me on my toes. Sometimes I hated you for it, between delayed trains and slush puddles, but every time I was ready to leave you managed to draw me back in.You’re my everything, New York. Thank you for being mine. Love, Veronica
AI miss your eyes.Your humor and your laugh. I miss your hair, your hands, your lips. I miss love. Being surrounded by it. The comfort in knowing someone, somewhere loves you. Everyone says time will make it better, but I know only love can. An age old addiction. A feeling utterly consuming. -F