Magic

The magic was gone.

It was gone a long
Time now, packing
Its bag and hitching
A ride to God knew
Where, leaving us to
Fend for ourselves.

In its departure,
We fell into a routine
That felt systematic
And left no room
For spontaneity.
I used to enjoy
The spontaneity, but
That was gone, too.

I would look across
At him and wonder
If he felt it, if
He noticed that
Things had changed
Between us. If
He did he never showed it.

The magic was gone.

I knew not how to
Conjure it up. I
Had no magic lam or
Such implement to return
The magic to our lives
And still I craved it.

Like a drug addict
Craved a drug,
Like a chocoholic
Craved a bar of
Oral sin, I craved
The magic.

I sought it out in
The crevices of my life,
Chanting under my breath
Its name as though it
Was my wayward dog
Gone missing.

I did find magic
In the arms of another,
In secret places
Where my husband's
Eyes would never see us.
It was as I remembered
And I savoured it
Despite the fact that
It was wrong.

But truly what is
Wrong or right to
And addict? I was
Addicted to the magic
And now I've got
My magic fix.


Image Credit: Imageback