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Before She Forgets

To him, she is only
a collection of tales
scribbled in invisible ink.
His thoughts
are shadows he wants
no one else to see.

She is an echo
in his mind,
but his love
is an empty sidewalk.

These are not the wings
she meant to own–
ones made of wax.

They speak as though
their eyes
are not lovely secrets;
as though time
does not matter.
Whenever she kisses him

she wonders
who lights
candles for her.
Love and truth
are the myths of a magician’s heart.

Some things
are just conjured


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