New York City.
She feeds me when I am starving for things I don't ask for,
she who
didn't think twice
before tattooing my profile onto her skin
amongst all the others.
There is no other one
who has equal amounts of fire and fight,
who matches me step for step
and bite for bite,
leaving marks on me deeper than any person could go.
And she's so good
she even makes me hate her as much as I love her
and forgive her
as hard as I would miss her if I ever left,
before wishing for her again as completely as I would have banished her.
This is the woman
who fights me from the same side,
who pushes against me as hard as I push against her,
whose body can stop feeling like home for one second too long,
and then I would always see her eyes everywhere I go.
This is the woman
who strips my mind of words and leaves me looking at myself
raw and inside out.
She's the one I never want to leave behind,
who whispers to me
what I am worth,
the pain to get pleasure,
showing me light in all forms,
and I have lived inside her long enough
to know that I will treasure her until I die.
New York City.
I would let her swallow me whole,
eat me inside and out.
I would let the hands of a thousand friends and enemies drown me,
stab my body,
burn my soul,
and still fight to the death to keep her.