Magically You're There?
M
Mark Heathcote
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You're like a shadow on a canvas flirting.
Some charcoal line that is just forming
a flame-flickering, or is it dancing,
I'm listening to the air crackling
eyes widening gaze, hesitantly-stare
you're like static electricity
drawing me closer a-strobe-light pulsing
my heart beating erratically
it's hard to breathe; I don't know why exactly.
The trauma of dementia is never really-framed
magically you're there? Even though - I'm all alone.
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