Your initials are carved in the maple tree,
A compass pointing nowhere true.
I trace the lines of a geography,
Where every road leads back to you.
You were the north, I was the south,
A love that spanned the equator.
Now I'm the ink, you're the doubt,
A border we can't cross later.
Oh, I'm the legend, you're the key,
A heart that's torn in two.
I'd redraw the world just to find the sea,
That separates me from you.
The wind carries postcards I never sent,
Stamps of places we'd never go.
I'm half a continent of regret,
And half a country of snow.
The future's an atlas with blank pages,
A journey with no route.
I fold the corners, trace the stages,
But the path won't compute.
I'm the love, I'm the loss,
A paradox I can't undo.
You're the light I can't emboss,
Even when it burns me through.
Oh, I'm the legend, you're the key,
A heart that's torn in two.
I'd redraw the world just to find the sea,
That separates me from you.
The stars still shine, the night still calls,
But I'm a shadow in the glow.
If love's a war, then let it fall,
And I'll be the cartographer's lament.
