No shining lights like I've been told,
but I felt so warm in a room so cold;
time was still, my heart was sold
to the beautiful, traveling skeptic.

Your eyes wrote stories of my thoughts,
the dreams, the nightmares, that I both bought;
stolen faith, you easily caught,
as if you were meant to own it.

I may paint the future in naive,
too promising for anyone to believe;
for a complete moment, you and me,
we drowned in a puddle of magic.

7.17.18