Logging Field

I think I've gotten really good
At watering this hollow wood
Imagining a tree is gonna rise
And missing is a funny thing
Collects itself in annual rings
Believing well that time will make us wise
But emerging from a fog revealed
I'm standing in a logging field
And time just made me see what isn't there
Is someone real if they're unclear?
Can you be gone when you weren't here?
Am I allowed to grieve the empty air?
And it's a skill I've come to question
It is a skill I don't wanna learn
Building a future off a suggestion
Basing a life off of a word
Living a life off of a word
I'd say I felt it coming fast
But pains of now are always past
And no one can predict the way things fall
And missing is a boundless trap, you learn to love around a gap
Still, pieces of you live there in the vault
But our bodies weren't built for grief
All primal screams then quick relief
We're built to chop the wood and start a fire
And as I watch the branches catch
What once was shade becoming ash
I wonder if I'm also on the pyre
And it's a fear I end up living
It is a fear I don't want to earn
You had to go, but I'm the one missing
You had to go, but I'm the one burned
I let you go and I'm the one burned
Smoke always rises straight from the source
Nothing surprises me anymore
Smoke always latches onto my hair
We are just matches catching on air
And there's a field somewhere within me
An open field where things used to grow
Pain I can't take, it never quite kills me
It leaves the space for what I don't know
It leaves the space for what I don't know