Since he did not

believe

in magic,

he could not

see her.

He had not learned

to recognize

truth,

so he saw only

one more

lie.

Accustomed to

treachery

and the most primal

of betrayals

he knew only

to do it

first and better

than anyone else.

Perpetuating

his own pain he became

a master

at skillfully

inflicting it with a

bitter glee

that caused his heart

to rot

even more.

In moments of

clarity

he would confess

to his own

destruction and yet

he would make no move

to save himself,

refusing the power

of healing that comes

with being loved.

She saw

the little boy

inside the man

and her mother’s

heart held her

steadfast.

She remained

to the bitter end,

calm and unblinking

as he severed

every bond

that she refused

to break,

pelted her with

his own neurosis,

psychosis and shame

until at last,

unable to turn her

away from him,

he ran.

When all was silent,

at the darkest

part of night,

she finally stood

and quietly closed

the door

behind him.

She let her wounds

bleed themselves

clean,

let her tears

fall inside her,

and kept her heart

open

to someday love

the one

who would

let her.