Sympathetic Magic

Sympathetic magic, superstitious sweetness,

as the night falls slowly, and I hope for peace and rest.

A martyr, a saint, an angel in a young woman,

a smile as warm as the morning sun.

I laid my sword at her feet, when she was taken,

to show her love and faithfulness, though I fell again.

Headful of bad shit that doesn’t leave, not even a kiss

chases it back to Tartarus, or out of my life.

Sweet songs from when I was young playing, repeating,

that bring a wisp of the child I once was

and I put the slideshow on my laptop, her face, happy, alive,

shining, the mourning sun, glow of a star taken by His hand.

Sympathetic magic, that her light will chase all the bad shit away,

that I’ll dream in Eden and be whole again as I sleep.

Angel, agape coming to me imperiled heart, so I can take her hand,

and follow her to a better world, better dream, better heart.

Sweet dreams, please.

Be an angel like her, please.



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