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.