When she looks at me

When she looks at me

It hits

Like a custard pie

I flinch

From its intensity.

I was looking

Right through her

Into the distance

Staring without seeing

Innervision.

I can’t keep this up

Not everyday

Who am I trying to kid?

I miss her green eyes

The way her hair falls

Over her face

The lilt

Of her voice

She slips away.

It might not kill

But neither does it

Make you stronger.

I don’t want to think

About Nietzsche,

A can’t normalise

Psychopathy like that.

She has gone

I can still see the disturbance

In the air

Where she once stood.

Nobody tells you

About magic

I guess you are

Just expected to know

It is all a dream.

Existence is a shambolic

Exercise

In self-harm

Feed me to the birds

At least then

I can fly away.