Except

Before I knew better, I knew how to fly.
And the dreams that came
in the kind of colors I can't see anymore.
There is a heartache to losing that.
There is a sadness to knowing the truth,
to hearing the air pop as the magic is sucked
from our world.
Except for that feeling
and my knowing.
Except for being in love with a dream
a thing that can't be
in a place I don't belong.
There is a magic eye way of seeing the world
just out of focus
just out of reach.
As you walk toward it,
it falls away.
I miss it.
I miss you.
I miss me too.
Do you?