New York State of Mind

Layered upon sweat and dermis was a coat of heavy humidity. I wore my old Levi’s paired with your heavily washed concert tee. The fabric of the weathered tee clung to my body as I walked through the lower east. I had a feeling it was going to rain. The sky was hanging low, and the air shifted to a claustrophobic-stuffiness that made its way around the city. New York City bore a relaxing familiarity, one in which I would soon crave. I was in a New York state of mine, housing a blatant disregard for my world left in Toronto. Taking off my glasses, I wiped my lenses clear of humidity and rested them back on my nose. I spent the day wandering the flower district. I had tulips in my bag wound tightly in brown paper and twine. I gazed lovingly at these yellow signs of spring but knew that these bulbs would only last me a week. As a precedent, I throw out flowers before they die because I cannot bear to watch them wilt away.  I’d much rather see the fragile stems in the bin then decaying in a vase.

As dozens of residents passed by, I began to think of the night before.

At a dive of a bar, we locked eyes. There was coke on the table and liquor in the bathroom, true indications of an ‘anything-goes’ evening. I waited for you at the bar. With a drink in my hand, I wanted for a Manchester child built on English subtlety. It was like waiting for Godot; a heightened sense of false hope, built around the very fabric that I don’t recognize you anymore.

We had crystallized, Melted into oblivion where our souls separated from one. You had your hand on my cheek as I stared into your eyes. I was disconnected yet so close, and in this moment, I had never felt further away. I wondered why we could not separate, and I wondered why we could not break apart. It could be our disposition, or it could be our inability to purge one another, but It was as if we had dug our own graves yet we were too afraid to be buried alone.

When it came to him, I often miscalculated the throw. The likelihood of reciprocation was slim and I know that I risked a strike out. I made sure to calculate my actions through pointless equations but never found an absolute solution; a mathematic absurdity. I aimed to calculate and to hold myself with dignity, but the satisfaction of ill-timed misfortunes took precedence. I looked at my phone and waited for your call. What was I feeling? I was not desperate, nor was I feeling desperation or an affixation on a particular image or design. This feeling was an unverifiable entity that can take hold and grasp each mind with control and unbearable desire. It was heartbreak and I couldn’t let you break me. With limited inhibitions and a crass for being spontaneous, we made decisions that would hold great consequences. Was there a rhyme to the reason? or do these minute joys give us a lasting effect,  a quick blast of satisfaction until we regret?

We walked home together silently. You were by my side yet I felt so alone. The taste of unspoken words navigated our tongues. I stared at the dewy pavement and felt the first rain drop of the night. It rained for three days that week, and It rained for the days and nights that I knew him.

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