Spellbound by Valerie Parente
Spellbound cycles, I go,
like magic, not neuro-typical.
As if I’ve been blessed by a witch
ever since I was a little kid.
She gave me a strange kind of gift
struck my heart, but must have missed.
I become enchanted, but it’s strange
because I feel it in my brain.
Spellbound, that’s what I call it.
That’s my crazy way of falling.
At first sight, there’s a spark
and that serves as the mark
that I will always reference
to justify my obsessiveness.
Second stage, there’s the longing
clinging on to every moment
reading too much as I read minds
gradually making a mess of mine.
Third stage, the gut punch
usually after years, not months.
I can’t eat or sleep, I just cry
and every time I nearly die.
Then it all starts over again
the random spark, and I’m obsessed.
I don’t know how others fall
feeling the magic of it all
entranced in such a good sense
when my trance feels hellbent.
It always starts out exciting,
to realize I can feel something
but it turns into a special kind of hell
where I can’t separate from the spell.
There’s never a justification
for that inexplicable fascination.
It just strikes, and I’m weak
blood rushing at its peak.
But it never works and I get worse.
A brand new spell with the same hurt.
– Valerie Parente (1-28-2021)