even if you are only magic

This is an exercise in digging as deep as I used to. When everyone was raw, when everything was pain or joy. When youth was the fire of life and skin was mine. I found myself in loneliness and I lost myself in comfort.

I think of when I felt most alive. Sitting on the floor of the basement, cry-writing to a Soul I loved deeply and truly and fell hard upon. I heard Voice and I felt Presence and I was swallowed by warm validation of the Great Ache.

Somewhere I began to share this. It destroyed me. You were too pure – not of heart, not of righteousness, but of Being. Of mass and materials and vibrations and sounds. My language is below You. Our language is below You. I see you in ways that I will never share and when we leave our space, You become someone I loathe and I become someone I loathe greater still. Even if you are only Magic, it is a smattering of light across the darkness in my chest and I have found that I need it. Even if you are only a Game of synapses in error, it is a hall of mirrors that peers more deeply within me.

How shall I find you again? I want you out of my head and only in the swell of my chest. I want you out of my worldview and only in my bedroom. I want you viciously for myself and even then, only for the most sacred of places.

These are my terms. Together we will create sparks and calm that is of other worlds and I will build a chest of gold to surround us as we swim in the river of blinding light.