Leave a comment

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.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: