Gift of the Magi

| December 27th, 2007

I have one gift.
One, sole, lonely gift.
I wish I had more that one talent.
I wish that I had another talent.
I’m still searching, waiting, watching for any ability.
For any strength.
Beyond my one gift.
My gift is a curse. My gift is a cure.
My gift is a kiss of sweet sorrow.
My gift is painful
My gift is tiresome.
For whatever gods that grant gifts
Whichever of the muses that stand over the newly born,
Decided to give me the gift of solace.
The gift of understanding.
The gift of love.
They find me, the broken people.
The people who’s lives need mending.
People with broken hearts and shattered dreams.
Those who need a human flame to warm their lives.
They find me.
I try to be callous and cold.
I try to push them away.
But my eyes betray me.
They know I will listen.
They know I will hear them.
They know, beneath the swagger,
and the smirk.
That I will give them something.
Something, which is all they want.
My energy, my soul.
All I have in this world.
All I have in the next.

I will dream their dark dreams.
I will share their pain.
I will listen, and hold them.
I will love them, as much as I can feel love.

And I will smile, sadly.
When the triumph, and when they fall.
Because I cannot fix anyone.
I cannot grant wishes.
Fate has taught me, again and again…
That good intentions lead to grave consequences…
Grave consequences.

I am no martyr.
I am no saint.
I am no therapist.
I am no shelter

I can only share.

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