the lonely city

Love isn’t like The Sound of Music
I don’t get to run out the door
of my self-imposed convent
and into the arms of a man in a uniform
with a readymade family
waiting for someone to love them
and take care of them
when he gets himself blown up
somewhere in Afghanistan
(not that they put that in the movie)

New York City isn’t the place for singles
and some days I walk down the street
customary coffee in hand
and buy myself a bunch of roses
so it’ll look like someone loves me
or at least I have someone
worth giving them to
when the reality is they’ll wilt
on my windowsill until I can bear
to part with them
which is always too long

This place was meant to be a fairy tale
and instead all I’ve found is a city
full of lonely people with broken dreams
nights spent free of passionless one night stands
in its place I find myself staring out the window
listening to the sound of cars
dreaming of hailing a taxi
with a one way fare to the airport
and back to place where my dreams of love
where still alive
if only I had the money to do more
than dream

© Indie Adams 2015

Written for Madame Lavender's, Pick a List comp, List #3