by C. Ikpoh
What they have is right. It is fantastical. It is magical, and no other identities can be known as such. Though hurt ensues the flowing of this type of magic, they are not afraid to let it exist. Some say it is fleeting, that it is a pseudo reality, but when they place their hands over the other's heart, they know what they share -- that feeling -- it is true. They are in tune with each other, and the two exist as one.
Alas, part of what they love belongs to others. Nevertheless, the magic shall remain stolen. They are thieves of the worst kind. Yet, they revel in their achievement. They are the Robins of hearts, having done one another a righteous deed, giving to each what they were poor of for so long. No remorse is felt, only gratefulness, even though someone else has less because of their actions. These other people, though, have been rich in what has been stolen. This treasure of the heart, it is powerful enough in one sliver to make heaven known to the greatest non-believer. Thus, why they feel no pity for the bounty of which the others possess, and though the outside parties deserve their prize in whole, the two refuse to feel wrong in their doings. It is the nature of what they share, and this nature is inescapable. It is why they have enriched one another with a part of them that no one else will ever know. They are givers in every sense of the word. They are wondrous and there is no denying that. They are thieves. They are providers. They are magicians.