She stretches her hand at things.
Magic moves them into her hand.
The magic is me.
She may know how the trick is done,
she may care.
I only know,
if the magic stops,
my throat begins to tighten.
-
- basilwhite (
basilwhite) wrote,
basilwhite
basilwhite
I wrote a poem: "Wife Telekinesis"
She stretches her hand at things.
Magic moves them into her hand.
The magic is me.
She may know how the trick is done,
she may care.
I only know,
if the magic stops,
my throat begins to tighten.
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