Magic

These days, I'm too scared to say "I love you." For all the times that I did–we entered a magic show, and you disappeared out of my life. I demanded a refund for all the times I spent planning the future with you, but the show was already over. Putting myself in the magician's shoes. I begin to think that I had one more trick up my sleeve. And so I pulled out a rose. As these thorns pricked at my skin, adding onto the scars that I've already made–the subtle shades of red tell a different story for when I've tried to feel human again. Confused why you haven't appeared yet, I began to go down a list of every spell I know of. "Abracadabra!" "Alakazam!" "Bippity Boppity BOO!" This life just doesn't feel the same without you. There's a saying that a good magician doesn't reveal their secrets, but I've been drawn to tell you everything I know about myself. It's this trust and transparency I had with nobody else. For what I thought was "love," felt like I was drowning in this tank of water, knowing you're the only oxygen that I needed in my life. And the only key I had to escape reality, was for the times we were under these silk sheets. Sometimes, simply being around you, made me feel like I could float in mid air. But even with all of these spectacular feats, I'm starting to think that our magic wasn't real after all.