To, New York

Your laugh echoes in my heart

and you’re wild in my art,

even now,

when I’ve been on this road for months

of missing and still wanting–

a year ago, I couldn’t sleep for fear of demons drooling under the bed,

now I can’t sleep cuz their memories haunt every place I rest.

A year ago, I tried to run,

now I’ve left so much behind

it’ll either bungee-snap my heart back

or snap it in half.

Sometimes I curl on the floor and just cry

but a year ago I was too scared to lie anywhere–

in the darkest nights

I built up stars for myself

to pierce the shadows

and lose myself inside of,

but now I’ve lost the stars

and the sun

behind a hazy gray

strung over this city of dreams,

lurking like storms of larks at twilight.

Maybe it’s better the nights are gone,

but I’m still tethered to the stars

and my belief in them,

that they were more than pinpricks I invented to survive.

If I launch myself

to the sky,

will I find the sun up there?

Or will my bungee break

and leave me falling

like a dream

to the smog city?