He told me I was convenient
That what we had between us was convenient
That the space in which we gave value to was convenient.

Magic has never been convenient
and maybe that's why I fly a little further every day
try to grasp those ******* stars behind some clouded city lights
trying to grab the ******* magic in between his palms because even atoms bouncing off each other were never convenient.

He practices science.
it's his religion
he preaches to the hydrogen bonds that stabilize our DNA.
He's praying to the mother of chemistry,
worshiping the biological systems in our body
trying to save lives that will one day be in need of saving.

I told him convenient was not my style of living,
that I preach to others day by day the gift of happiness.
That the rotten glares make me question this gift,
but I hold onto the magic.