I put a spell on myself,
sewing you into my soul,
and there you stayed,
through storms and sordid sadness,
until you were done with me.
I don’t miss you anymore,
but I miss being in love with you.
I miss waking from dreams into the waking heaven of your sleepy embrace,
and feeling like I was fortunate, at last,
but I shattered the glass and gazed at the remains of a broken mirror,
it cannot be repaired,
and I cannot see anything but the truth.