Fragment 8: Skinny Love

Come on, skinny love, just last the year.

It was never meant to last the year. It was meant to die when the sun turned toward winter's season. Meant to die when it was so clear we were speaking the same words but a wholly (holy?) different language.

But I can't help myself with you. You make me want to make magic, to turn the dead into living, to breathe strange life into what could not be. To pull a celestial being down to earth and show her a thing or two of what it's like to see the world through my eyes.

I dreamed you made me a man but see now that you made me the Magician. Taught me to weave visions, seek the wildness in you, speak words that made meaning of you and meaning of me. I gave us new titles and new names, drew in the divine around and through us.

Baby, we made magic together.