After everything you have been through:
Are all the magical moments making matters better?
If infinitesmal, minute changes were made:
If captivation were less an abstract
And an apple orchard could sprout overnight –
Then maybe you could forgive the way I make applesauce.
So tough, much tougher than you let yourself
And all believe, but I know you better than anyone has before,
You make allowances for arbitration,
Despite a station that’s been dialing leagues between your ears,
And it was an idleness from me, lacking direction,
That made connection start to sever,
How very severe a thing indeed.
But yet believe, magic exhudes from the air you breathe,
From each breath incantations, a spell from each exhale;
If you were to be vanished, how I’d find myself in Hell.
How long shall I grieve?
In your absence I’m bereaved.