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Promise to Myself

I keep trying to hide
from you and your eyes;
trying to conceal
the tangram in my heart
whenever you touch me.

I am soft with deceit,
and the banshee
is my only friend.

The saying stones are quiet;
tea leave lie
limp and damp
in the bottom of my cup.
All the magic I have ever known
has deserted me;
all the spells
in my repertoire
are like dust motes
in an abandoned house.

When love
is a journey of the heart,

I a witch

weighted with stone,
and still I float.

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