If I fall from New York City, catch me like a river catches the rain…absorb me and accept me because you are warm and you are you . Couldn’t there be something so colorful here? Couldn’t there be bright lights and tall buildings in the glint of your eyes…in the strength of your legs? Isn’t there hustle and bustle here with your telephone ringing the sound of taxis against city streets? Greet me with the parade of your emotions. Know my name.

If I fall from New York City, float on the horizon with me. Hold my hand so we can drift together, floating past the fog and the confusion into clean air and a soft breeze. Land with me in the warm grass of familiarity. Walk with me through the empty streets of home, feeling the way that it’s quiet deep down in our bones. Do not ask me for explanations. Do not make demands. Take my hand.

If I fall from New York City, how will I explain myself to you? How many ways can I confess the beat of my heart? How many times can I hand you the keys to the closets inside of me? Which pieces of me, I wonder, would force you to do something rash like fall in love? Fall in love with me.

If I fall from New York City, I want you to know that it is because of you. I want you to feel the way that I have altered my life so that you can be in it. I want you to close your eyes and hear the way that the thumping of your heart is the pulse of my existence. I want these things to matter. I want to matter to you.

If I fall from New York City, lay out a blanket beneath me that you have stitched with the thread of your yearning. Do you yearn? Do you ache? Do you have these things that have so completely shaped the man I have become? Lay out the cloth of your emotion so that I can wrap myself up in it. So that I can know you.

If I fall from New York City, do not run from me.

If I fall from New York City, do not push me away.

If I fall from New York City, will you fall from yourself?

If I fall…Catch me.

Hold out your arms.