Magic Ink

If you ask me of love 

I will tell you that it is enigmatic

That you will feel it in the trenches of your soul

And in the most lofty places of your mind

I will tell you that it is like a scrupulous friend who never abandons you

If you ask me of love

I say that it is like a sanctuary found in despondency

So when it goes away, it leaves gaping wounds in your heart

Like footprints stamped upon your memories turning rapidly to dust

Memories of their smile that reminded you of summer

And their tracks lead away now

And some will say that healing comes only with calendars and clocks 

If you ask me of love 

I will have to tell you of heartbreak 

But in the midst of losing love, I found it again

In the way that words wrapped me up and painted my feelings like contrails in the sky 

Collecting the sound waves that fell from my lips in dissaray, and salvaging their meaning in ink

Poetry became my medicine

It became my magic and my muse

Picking up my missing pieces

So I will tell you that sometimes people walk away 

But I will tell you that words always stay 

If you ask me of love

This poem is about: 
Me
Guide that inspired this poem: 
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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