Your Magic

Tissue after tissue from the box I take, my shameless tears I pour into them and tissue after tissue I throw them all away. Unruly and welling up on their own – as if from a spring hidden in darkness – again they flow, the clear streams of my tears from the joy of remembering you down my face, heedless, in a crowd or alone. Without a doubt beyond refuting you have bewitched me; not in the least like tissue after tissue all alike...