Love Spells

waking to you hasn’t
thrilled me for weeks.
i don’t like kissing you anymore.

i want my body to
recognise yours again. you
sleep separated from me:

we talk of reinventing love.
we sit across from
one another,
legs crossed,
fingers linked
red candles.

love spells are tricky business,
dirty magic to add
names to, so
we write our names together,

crisscross over page,
bind our right hands together,
crisscross over flame.

we missed the right full
moon by months.
i can already sense this




V Ruston (20) eats poems for breakfast and studies at RMIT. In their spare time they sell love spells, befriend neighbourhood cats, fend off existential dread, and dabble in fashion blogging.

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