You tore across my sky like a comet, daring me to catch you
in my hand and heart, some dazzling display of beauty and
light against the darkened firmament

You hypnotised me with palest skin and bluest eyes
words and promises of love and passion, my awe-struck senses
reeling in boundless adulation

You enchanted and entranced me, so I called you witch
and we talked of fate and everafters, those dreams of together
and belief in each other

You made me captive as surely as if, in some cage I was bound
your willing prisoner fondest desire, and I believed
in your acts and your words

You left me gifts, on my return home those days,
hiding in the mailbox to bring delight and adoration, and on some
you would wait in my bed for my return

You told me I made you feel, like no other before
such passion, and that in my arms you felt more special
than any had made you feel before

I remember the last day, before evening fell and with it your love
and your kiss and laughter and your smile, as beautiful as wildflowers
in spring’s early light

Then you chose, in some agony of feeling or remorse or spite
to tell him of us, of our affair and passion, though I suspect you left
out many details in the telling

With that you were gone, departed as if I was never in your life
never one you swore you loved and cherished, in all forms forgot
as a discarded toy in a dusty street corner

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