poetry/
there's something sapphic about the way she says my name
there's something tragic in the way he holds out his hand
there's something magic in their eyes when for my love they sang
there's something nostalgic in the way that I ran (to their a...
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Houdini never stood a chance. Not against a magician like you.
He played with illusions, While you played with my heartstrings. You weren't just an enchanter. You, the puppeteer. The musician.
Houdini always tied himself. Always used himself as the toy. But I am your test subject. I am the one bound by your ropes. How come you never taught me the escape tricks?
You said I didn't need them.
Cuff my hands behind my back. Thread needles in past my lips. Bury me in a casket six feet under. Suspend me upside down.
Watch me escape each time. Watch me return to you alive. Your magic keeps me from running. Your magic keeps me by your side.
I am your little puppet. I am the snake you charm with your flute. My veins are the strings you make me dance by. My clothes are the skin you shed, to taste my neck.
One day I will perform the ultimate disappearing trick. One day you won't be able to find me. Houdini will have to watch agape, As I escape your clutches.
As I fade into nothingness.
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