You have romanced me Portland, more than any other city I've ever visited. Your mountain scapes and beautiful bridges have captured my heart and made it very hard to leave you. I want to hold hands and sip a latte whilst walking through your tree lighted streets, donning my yellow scarf and bike friendly tennis shoes. You are the essence of romance. Each turn of a corner conjures a new sensory experience. Green. Blue. Pumpkin spice. Crisp air. Cool nights. Gentle rain. You are like entering the room with your boyfriend, him leading by the gentlest of touch to the small of the back-safe and dangerous-the dicotomy of letting go, yet feeling safe.
You, Portland, are almost too good to be true. Your romance is welcomed, but not fully believed. I question how good you seem to be. I'm holding my breathe for what will, inevitably, come up. The things I'm unaware of. Those things that take the shine out of the romance.
Regardless...you are my new muse. I want to know you fully; to walk through your streets, drink your coffee, and be with your people.
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