His Magic

He called it magic.
Invisible, surreal, imaginary.
Held between the two of them.
Unreal, the way he made her
seem to bend into his ways.

She would never understand
the path he chose. A memory
that never lived within his aging
bands of gold and black.

While the lack that he revealed
proved outstanding. Living there,
so deep inside his heart. As deep
within, the light and dark began.

Opening, as if a flower blooming.
Offering immersion in confusion.
That tore apart his optical illusions.
And made him feel the pain of each
contusion he'd denied.

Outside, the night was gathering
again into itself. While in a box,
too far back on a shelf he hid
within himself, he felt a lingering.

Of days that used to be, but more
than that. Of memories that somehow
changed within the dark and lonely
space allotted unto them.

He called it magic.
Held between the two of them.
Unreal, the ways had changed.
The habits that once held them
all together.

A feather drifting in the wind.
An essence that would never leave.
A spark of consciousness that bent
within a surge of summer wind.

A lazy moment full of lost forgiveness.
A crazy feel. As if a new world dared
to open up within his heart. Desire
that never needed burning up.
But never reaching for the giving up.

Instead, there was a sense of giving in.
Crazy, how his head began to spin.
Left and right fed into right and wrong.
The differences contrived as mighty sin.
It whirled on the small point of a pin.

Just as the angel's wings began to flutter.
A whispering from other realms began
to mutter strangely strong, departed
elegies. Within a breed of poetry that
always seemed to matter deep inside.

So full of feelings that reached deep
into emotion. Holding it while climbing
to the lowly heights of merely mortal minds.
Words that grasped and made him lapse
into himself again.

The where and when and why had never
mattered. For there, within his soul
lay shattered feelings of a past he'd
never grieved. Loss hidden within tiny
little boxes, never grasped within the
world of workaday he chose to live.

Yet still, that something rose and delved
into the labyrinth of all that is. A realm
that no man ever could name his.
One God that broke into the tiny
particles that shaped tomorrow.

He called it magic.
Invisible, surreal, imaginary.
Held between the two of them.
Unreal, the way he made her
seem to bend into his ways.
While there inside, he knew
that he could never choose
to stay with her that way...

? Michaelette ?

7/18/2004
Copyright© 2004 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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