Years ago I met a boy.
Who became the man I followed across the globe.
Who became a boy yet again, years later.
Like a child painstakingly building a sandcastle all afternoon,
Investing time, love, affection,
He trampled me before the tide ever could.

I put New York on my keyring.
I carried the loss of that little heart with me everywhere.
I carried it with me into every chance encounter.
Into every lonely late night drive.
I carried that heavy weight with me in my pocket everywhere.
Always.

I'd reach my hand into the pocket of my coat.
The familiarity of its worn edges somehow reassured me with its loss.

But then came a glimmer of something new.
And I thought, maybe this little broken heart is only a memento after all--A token.
Maybe it's not completely broken.

Today New York fell off inside my pocket.
As if to say, "It's time."

It is the loss of a loss.
It's a relief--
The chance to gain everything.
And it's terrifying.

Am I safe in your hands?
Please, make sure this castle stands.
Make it a mighty fortress.
One with a moat.
Keep my wounded heart afloat.