Counterpart of Magic

I could write a love song

If I could forget it's about someone

I could have faith in math

If you and I came out to a real number,

But every move I think of is a blunder.

It’s the counterpart of magic.

It’s the pain of going under

And breathing when you come up again.

You’re not my lover, you’re not my friend.

And all we are when we don’t talk is my

Phantom limb.

If you were mine,

If we had time,

Well I don’t know anymore.

I know you…

I don’t

You loved me…

It doesn’t count.

With the wrong amount of exposure, even light can bleed

And I won’t say I need you

But it hurts.

Like a bruise I can’t stop pressing,

My thoughts keep coming back to you.

And though my life wouldn’t seem to be depressing,

It’s hard to find anything that’s true

If you

Were not.

Overripe and rotten,

Split us open,

What do you find?

Half-grown, now-dead seeds

(searching for the light)

And the bitterest of rinds

(because you gave up the fight)

It’s the counterpart of magic.

It’s the pain of going under

And breathing when you come up again.

You’re not my lover, you’re not my friend.

And all we are when we don’t talk is my

Phantom limb.

We’ve yielded the ghost,

And what once mattered most

Is an empty mockery,

A jagged key

To a door

 that no longer

exists.