Breaking Spells With Magic Coins

The slender everyman whispers sweet nothings and hollow
lies into the whirls of her ear - drum
                                            drum
                                                  drumming
promises of thinner air to wishbone ribs,
to house effortless birds, snapping shut -
grinding steel trap doors shut in the night
locked safe under the weight of sounds of silence
and layers upon layers of secrets built over years (scurrying from light).
Sleeping bound; worlds crushing mattresses as soft as
pillows alone, but stacked: heavy enough to hush bone
and draw blood as deep as a wine bruise the colour
of a stone on a bed,
sleeping with silver fish and mermaids at
the bottom of the ocean under the moon.
Carrying the weight of dust motes and skeletons
and love,
the grams of secrets and the weight of a soul.
Words left unsaid, unbound, unloosened control.
Magic awakened in beautiful you.
Held and unfurled, clasped in hands pressed and
ink-stained to show palms lined with pain lived once
and once again.
Penny farthings - tarnished with love-touched burnt umber.
These are the most beautiful things; always a little
frightening and never quite whole.
One little girl's heart flutters;
stumbles across a tiny coin on a dark, unpaved road
to whisper wishes and hopes to.
Puts in her her pocket, and
doesn't let go.