She's magic
She does tricks
Plays your heart
until you make her sick
Takes you places
Pretty faces
Vesting memories
Helpless to forget
And, that’s Her magic
Until you make her sick
She loved you once
Not a lie
No tricks there
Cannot deny
But she grows bored
of her lords;
for they fail her
with plastic sords
Oh, that caress
The wetness
Willing
Chilling
Filling
Until it isn't anymore
Just like that
Like lenore.
As he wrote,
Nevermore.
And then,
Nothing compares
Nothing
They're better in scarce ways
Yet, not the same
Missing her for days
A thousand lays
All those plays
It's her,
It’s always her
And, not one the same
She cares
She loves
She feels
and touch
So deep
So real
So very much
Wants
Needs
Gives
and pleads
Soft, yet hard
Dancing
with your stars
Then, gone away
Lost away
Feeling
Being
Truly seeing
A little lost
Perhaps a lot,
That’s her island
that place you thought you sought
Then no more
For you it's not
I woefully tell you
That's always the story
That's the plot
You’re made an abstract thought
No oasis
No morning glory
The magic was wrought
And, she’s not sorry
So lick your wounds
and move on
Like a childs toy
Or an old hit song
You're gone
You're gone
Your song is sung
Forgotten
Rotten
A has-been slung
The magic lingers
long after her spell
Forever with you
She'll endlessly dwell
Poem circa 2018
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All written content is created by and copyright © 2021 of Ana Clark.
Photography:
Background by Luca Hunter
Woman by Engin Akyurt
Photo editing by Ana Clark (AnaCe')
All written content copyright © 2021 of Ana Clark