What I thought is extraordinary
has become less
ordinary
and I'm not even talking
about Harry Potter.
Nothing opens at the
Close.
In reality
in my own fictional
non-verisimilitudinary realm--
Goodbye means
fare...
Well, your eyes
I thought
are hazelnut. Alas!
Your lips smudged
with pigment of what
I thought was love.
Only to discover
when you talk
a drop of saliva
spatters from
your mouth.
I loathe
how this petty mishap
misshaped the heart
pretty much
like a Cruciatus curse.
It sucks
When magic
is nothing like
your deafening
shrills that,
for strange reasons,
draw me to you like
the Imperius curse.
Aye, bitch.
Nothing is so extra-
ordinary. Love exists
not in my own fictional
non-verisimilitudinary realm--
Nothing opens at the
Close.
And I'm not even talking
about Harry Potter.
Fare...well.
(for Jane)
