I want a city kind of love. The kind of love that never stops moving, that’s alive and pulsing with rhythm and energy. The kind of love that’s filled with lights—some bright and twinkling, some quieter and more steady, and some that from a distance are so small, but when you put them together in magnitude, they light the whole sky.
I want a city kind of love. The kind of love that hums. The kind of love that’s filled with passion and adventure, but still has places of quiet where one can catch her breath. The kind of love that overflows with people and memories and secret spots. The kind of love that never stays still.
I want a city kind of love. Hands held on street corners, traffic rushing by—the cycle of movement and change and rediscovering who you are when you’re standing next to someone else—through every obstacle, and stop sign, and skyscraper reaching to the sun.
The kind of love that is in a continual state of progress, of becoming. The kind of love that is busy—busy building, busy believing in majesty even bigger than itself. That is forever learning, forever fighting to share its beauty with the world.
The kind of love that makes you hold your breath as you soar by in an airplane, simply in awe of its grandeur, even from so far away.
I want a city kind of love. The kind of love you hear about in poetry, that tastes both sweet and sour, drips with fervor, but also a subtle hint of dirtiness acquired over time.
The kind of love that has history, tells a story, always leaves you wondering what’s next. And yet, you know it’s a place you can return to time and time again. A safe haven, a home.