i am having an attack of realism
that enemy of joy
it’s good to have a reminder
now and then
of what it’s like
but only now and then

when the magic dies
even for a day
the world becomes quite grey
and love looks at me and leaves
it goes on holiday
all i wanted was a hand

i will close my eyes
to everything i want
and never speak
from this dark place
or explain to anyone
what it is i need

i wont beg and i wont bleed
that would not be nice
i wait for magic to return
it comes back when it will
with no regard to me
i guess that’s how it’s meant to be

i don’t have to be star-touched
or over the moon to survive
magical realism is all i want
or a smile in my direction
the balance will be fine
when the time is right