My heart flows down through my fingers onto the page.
Reduced to a line meandering in sadness.
I’ve been here before, this lonely place.

Living as a magician, a master of distraction
Look over here, there’s nothing to see over there.
The words change nothing
The tears change nothing
The capacity of my heart, to hold the sadness
Must be as great as its capacity to hold love.
but when will it reach its limit? is there a limit?
What happens then?
Where does the hope go?
when it abandons me, disappearing in a puff of magicians smoke.
only to reappear like a rabbit from a hat.
I’m getting very tired.