Songs from the album, “Lover” by Taylor Swift, which I first listened to when I returned to the city I love, my home, after the hardest few months of my life.
All lyric credits to Taylor, all of her words are italicized.
Sometimes an album comes to you when you need it the most, when you choose to need it the most, and it welcomes you into its loving embrace, and it tells you that everything you are feeling is real.
August 2019
“I Forgot that You Existed”
I forgot that you existed
And I thought it would kill me but it didn’t
The first day that I existed without you crossing my mind was a victory.
A miracle.
An inconceivable impossibility.
I never thought I would get a day without your ghost,
And the idea of living without you killed me,
But I begged for it in my bed every night for months.
I first listened to this song on my long walks from Halsey station to my airbnb this summer on my first days back in my city.
It reminded me that in the chaos of looking for my first apartment in this city, I had forgotten to mourn you for a day.
I hadn’t been haunted by you for a whole day.
In the humid days and long walks on cracked sidewalks walking by Brooklyn townhouses,
I listened to this song and this album for the first time.
I realized that finally, miraculously,
I forgot that you existed.
When the meaning of this song hit me in the gut, I danced.
In the old, creaking Airbnb house entryway.
I sang,
I cried,
I flushed in euphoria,
Color in my cheeks,
Breath in my lungs.
I discovered that
I was healing,
Time wasn’t a lie, it was working.
I was getting better.
I was breaking free.
The shroud was off.
I was me.
I thought that it would kill me,
But it didn’t.
And it was so nice,
So peaceful
and quiet.
August 2019 & June 2019
“Death by A Thousand Cuts”
My heart,
my hips,
my body,
my love
Tryna find a part of me that you didn’t touch
Gave up on me like I was a bad drug
Now I’m searching for signs in a haunted club
Our songs,
our films,
united we stand
Our country,
guess it was a lawless land
Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand
Paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans
My time,
my wine,
my spirit,
my trust
Tryna find a part of me you didn’t take up
Gave you so much, but it wasn’t enough
But I’ll be alright, it’s just a thousand cuts
May 2019
June 2019
July 2019
August 2019
You ripped me out and cut me into glass like I was nothing with your paper-thin plans.
I reached for months trying to find a part of me you didnt take up and consume.
I thought we wrote the laws and made the plans,
But you decided it was a lawless land,
and shattered my designed, careful strands.
Our country is demolished now,
It’s empty warehouses and ruins of the empire we could’ve had.
Trying to find a part of me I didn’t give up.
And every memory has become a cut that you inflicted and shards of glass from what you shattered in passing,
While you sought to escape and hide, like a wounded animal.
And every flashback is another invisible papercut that stings like glass in my lungs,
Bruises and wounds from when I couldn’t breath for months
Gave you so much that it became too much
How much can I take back for me or retouch into something of myself again
Your papercuts were invisible shards of glass I couldn’t dislodge for eternities,
But I’ll be ok,
It’s just a million shards in my lungs, and knives on the skin that you once worshipped but discarded like it was nothing but paper.
As if I was the paper that cut you.
August 2019
I survived the death by a thousand cuts, even though I’m still bleeding.
The subway rides still cut me,
And the car rides at night on the highways of this city still make me cry sometimes,
But
I will get better
I will
I have to
September 2020
This was the song that narrated where I lived for that summer.
Walking on and breathing in glass.
With a thousand papercuts.
Listening to this song brought me back and pushed me forward.
It gave me words that justified my agony and accompanied me as I healed.
Listening to this bridge shatters parts of me and brings me back every time I hear it,
But I don’t live with glass in my skin anymore.
I breathe again.
I am no longer stinging or bleeding.
My bruises are fading,
My million cuts and scars are almost gone.
It still stings,
But I am okay.
Another month,
Another scar fades.
August 2019
“Daylight”
All I see is daylight. I stepped into the daylight and let it go.
This song revived me and followed me into the light. It feels like it brought me into the light. That August where I first came back to new york and looked at the statue of liberty in battery park and listened to this song. The sun on my face, the water and wind in my lungs. The concrete bench underneath me and the tourists capturing the views around me.
I listened to this song at this moment and found the ground beneath me for the first time in months. I found my freedom and light. I stepped into the daylight and saw only light in my future after the months of darkness. I was home again, and I found my way back to the light. I made it back home after the cruelest summer. Back to myself. To the island I love. To my symbol of freedom. Freedom from the darkness, to step into the light. My light.
October 2019
“Cornelia Street”
And I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends
I’d never walk Cornelia Street again
That’s the kinda heartbreak time could never mend
I’d never walk Cornelia Street again
There are places in this city that I can’t go back to.
Certain giant signs I can’t go to,
Bookstores,
Movie theatres,
Highways by the water,
One pier by the water on the west side,
Parts of midtown,
The lighted, gradient of lights over the water by the bridge,
Places in Chelsea,
Places in the West Village,
Prospect Park,
Brooklyn Heights,
My school,
Too many restaurants,
Countless streets that sing your name.
But I came back.
This is my city,
the first home I’ve ever chosen.
I lost you, it ended.
But I biked past that pier even though I can’t go there.
I went back to the bookstore,
I rode in cars on those highways again even though it hurt,
I saw the beautiful lights by the water again,
They were mine.
I went back to the west village.
I live by prospect park now.
I walked those streets again.
And some streets I won’t ever walk again.
But the city doesn’t sing your name anymore.
This city sings my name.
It is mine.
And your ghosts aren’t welcome here.
And I don’t remember where Cornelia Street is anyway.
August 2020
“Lover”
We can leave the Christmas lights up till January. This is our place, we make the rules. You’re my lover.
The sigh I took after all the boxes were placed in this new room. Scrubbing the dark shoe marks off the floors and failing miserably. The shelves I built, the Ikea furniture I cried and screamed building on my floor. the art I stuck to my wall, the work it took me to get here. The lease, the stolen curtains, the months of paying two rents at once. Thousands of dollars invested in this room. The holes in my wall and the giant drill I had to buy to hang plants from the ceiling. The cream walls and square windows on the wall that overlook the water, the financial district, the statue of liberty, the church on my street, the F and G subway tracks above ground that squeak sometimes. The sounds of church bells. The air conditioner screaming and my noise machine playing. My roommate slamming doors and yelling on the phone in the hallway.
The unlit lights on the balcony, and the feel of the wind and fresh air outside of my living room. The taste of hope and a new future.
The love I hold for myself and this new home I built. The space for my yoga and my bookshelves. The stories I will fall in love with on my new and used chair. The view out my window of the home and city I love with all of myself. The first home I have ever chosen. The song celebrated my new home and how far I’ve come. The home I built with myself, my lover. It is mine. I make the rules here. I will find love for myself and my home here. I am free here, I am in love here. It is mine. I can leave the Christmas lights up till January.
