Lost in Orange | Page 46

Magician’s
 Assistant

I
 don’t
 fall
 for
 any
 tricks

but
 yours.
 And,
 those…

and
 how.

I’m
 up
 your
 sleeve,

wrists
 bound

by
 perfume
 meant
 for
 him.

You
 lay
 me
 down

on
 a
 café
 table,
 cut

heart-­‐first,
 and
 I
 say

It’s
 just
 an
 illusion

to
 keep
 myself

from
 disappearing.

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