Magic Man



When she closes her eyes, she sees suicide and the sharp white teeth of foxes and waves that rise for miles before crashing down on all the lonely people. When she slides beneath the sheets, and her fingers glide this way and that, she sighs while trying to remember his mannerisms and the look on his face when he would peer up at her from between her legs. On the windowsill, there’s dust and coke cans and snuffed out candles. On her fingernails, the remains of what had once been an expensive manicure now reduced to something less glamorous. When she touches the right spot, and her toes begin to tingle, she looks up at the ceiling and sees a vision that could be the future or the past. She’s not quite sure. The sight of her body in the mirror at the foot of the bed repulses her, and yet when she’s away from the world, she’s at one with every inch. When he took her to unknown places- when he made her feel like heaven- her body ceased to be. So now she tries her best to become one of those orbs he would go on about, and when she’s in her safe cocoon, she thinks of him and drifts away. In the darkness, she burns so brightly. When she takes off her armour and forgets about the image she impresses on those around her, she’s just a girl the same as he’s just a boy. And this boy, where does he play tonight? In which strange land does he find himself so far from the aching safety of her arms? Squeezing tight those eyes, she does her best to join him in a pursuit she doesn’t quite understand, but the more she loses herself in this golden touch, the more she wants him in her life again.

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

A Journal for Damned Lovers on

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