wishing wells (and stars)

it was the evening of magic
as deep as it has been laid
at the bottom of a singular
uncommon place
where the tea cups had cupboards,
and all the houses looked the same.

where my eyes were quenched
when swam down deep and under
reflecting city lights
while the moon watched asunder
and the sun turned around to peak
catching a glimpse of the innocence.

rising up and catch breath
the taste of copper and lively death
resigning to the enchantment
seeping into my every pore
like the crumbled dust falling
off of the old cellar door.

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