real magic

It was all real, the magic,

every bit of it, from the first moment,

that beat my heart skipped

couldn't have been an important one,

there's no way I needed that breath I lost,

falling all the way up into your eyes.

the first kiss and the last kiss

with shoes on my feet.

That's why the earth didn't tremble

the way I did, with the world gone,

nothing but the stardust in my eyes left to hold onto,

like some ethereal ribbon of daydreams unscrolling into the world

which will not receive it, will not notice it, much less cherish it, treat it like some utilitarian scrap of twine to hold something together that begs to rend itself away.

I still have all of the magic;

you can keep the world—

it’s dirty and useless.