The upbeat songs in her playlist never get played
Tear stains cover her pillow case
She’s never gripped her teddy bear so hard
It feels like it’s always raining
People have stopped trying to make her smile
Her eyes don’t twinkle, even when she’s happy
She wears baggy t-shirts instead of fitting ones
Her make up hasn’t been applied in weeks

So tell me- is the magic dead?

She doodles your name in her notebook margins
Writes you letters she’ll never let you read
Can’t stop thinking about you at night
You’re the reason she can’t sleep
At times it takes all she has not to break in class
She hides the things that remind her of you
She takes them back out when she’s sad again
Hangs onto the memories, trying to recall everything how it was.

So tell me- is the magic dead?

She’s writing her thoughts away in black pen
Praying that no one will ever know
Even when she wants someone to listen
Her ballet shoes sit abandoned in the corner
She can’t even make herself want to dance
Hides the body she once loved in sweats
You didn’t take the time to love her, left her even
So why would anyone else want to

So tell me- is the magic dead?

She’s feeling like a dusty toy put up on the shelf
Her legs dangle above the ground, but can’t touch
She’s a little kid who just wants to be loved
A simple request no one wants to validate.
That’s until he sees her, how broken she looks.
And instead of shaking his head and running away
He takes her tiny hand in his and helps her down.
Brushes off the dust with a caressive touch.

So tell me- is the magic dead?

He takes her hand and they brave the halls together
She digs out her ballet shoes and starts again
Replaces her sweatpants for leotards and tights
And stashes the notebooks and pens instead
She forgets about you and stops doodling your name
Only pulling on the memories to realize what she has now
Because she has a new guy who loves the little pieces
He doesn’t even think to ask for more, because he loves her.

So tell me- is the magic dead?

The upbeat songs in her playlist are the only ones who get played
She sleeps quietly against stain-free pillows
She’s not gripping her teddy bear anymore
It feels like it’s always shining.
People don’t have to try to make her smile
Her eyes seem to twinkle, even when she’s not smiling
She wears clothes that make her feel good.
She takes her time to get ready in the morning.

So tell me- is the magic really dead?

She doodles their names in her notebook margins
Writes love letters and thinks about letting him read them.
Can’t stop thinking about him at night
He’s the reason she can sleep with happy dreams
At times it takes all she has not to blush in class
She sets out things that remind her of him
She looks at them whenever she’s sad again
Lives the memories, and she couldn’t be happier.

So tell me- was the magic ever really dead?