At the beginning, it’s exciting.

He has a goofy grin and

His eyes are so green and just

Looking at him feels like stargazing

         To the point where you           

Can’t picture anything else.

That’s his first trick: tunnel vision.

“Look closer, or you’ll miss it.”

For his second trick, he’ll need a volunteer.

That’s you.

He’ll dedicate his energy to

Convincing you that his stage persona

Is just an act.

He’ll fumble over his words,

Introducing the most

Vulnerable parts of himself.

Deceit.

“I’m not good with words.”

You don’t begin to notice

Until the third trick

That you’re not his lovely assistant,

But his audience.

He replaces the rabbit in his hat

With your beating heart,

Ripping it from the safety of

Your chest cavity only

For the sake of the applause.

And as the clapping echoes in

Your hollow breast,

He wastes no time.

Holding the deck out to you, he says,

“Pick any card.”

And without thinking, you do.

The same one you always pick:

The Jack of Hearts.

That’s why I don’t believe in magic anymore.