At the GSM

I’m at the Governor Saint Mexico,
Which got its name from an enchanted book
About the magic everywhere you look
That fills the whole room with a foreign glow.
I’m on the ground floor, going toe to toe
With wizards claiming this place is their nook,
Their home away from home. The building shook
When they discussed where fingertips should go.

I wanted to be with you, but I’m not;
I wanted to be free of sadness, fear,
And sickness, but my failure’s all too clear:
The fairy dust won’t work the way I thought,
And my heart is an unenchanted spot.
I don’t know any spells. That’s why I’m here.