We sat on the swing
and it was magic
because for that moment
my pain floated away
on top of those perfect
butterfly wings and into
the mid-day sun and as
it died I remember
that it was the second
most beautiful thing
I had seen on that
July day because as
remarkable as my sadness
dying in front of my
crimson eyes was I remember
looking at you and
knowing-not thinking-
that these years of walking
through that devils flames
would, in the end,
lead me to
you.
A muse.
All of this is true.