I saved the magic for you. I remember the magic for you. I keep the secrets for you. I give the magic to you. But. This. Spot. Of. Dark. Ness. Dwells. It tries to consume. It stands in the body of someone I wanted to be friends with too. It calls itself better than you. It laughs and it sneers predicting a sick game here that I never signed up to do. And it wants to take the magic from you. Christ said not to toss your pearls to swine. Be weary if you do. To me, like AT&T, it means I need to be better at reaching out and knowing you. That you are standing there, as you. Loving me too. I saved the magic for you. I remembered it too. I came back around after 25 years and reminded you. But perhaps others did too. I am only concerned, in that case, about what their ego has them do. Turned a childhood spark from innocence into the lofty dark with cheap presence and demanded to be seen first for what they do. And trampled the magic that came from me and you. Because they wanted to be the magic god over you. Neglecting what their childhood heart led them to. But I saved the magic for you. And reminded you too. Of what the stars looked like when they spoke to me and you.
