By night, the big city’s skyline is clear enough.To write. And rhyme. As we see them and you and anyone under New York light. Falling in love when clocks strike momentum. Allows me to step outside of my window, that hum. Speeds up, spikes.
The rate of my heart’s drum, when it decides to beat with the avenues. Below. As you. As they’re. As everyone. Is falling in love under these seen sights. Taking it slow. It is rare. Yet when the sun falls, the sky begins to scrape. And lean. Against the lefts, wrongs. The rights. Time for falling in love to the sound of New York City’s mix tape. And if this. Chill. Exists elsewhere as well.
It’s mine right now and right now I can’t seem to spot. A soul who has not fallen under the same spell.
This is the world.
As I know it.
As I need it.
This is my world.
And we’re falling in love.