Matter is neither created nor destroyed.

It seems as though you're acting blind
keeping tallies and counting times,
but I lost score.
You called me yours, I called you mine,
that ownership's lost,
and somehow I feel fine.
You enjoy;
you're what you want,
you're what you are,
you are those things,
But none of it is real to me.
Fabricated and imaginary.
Feelings felt to feel something else,
I felt yours as you fell to someone else,
somewhere else, now it's something else.
I just don't mind.
I feel just fine.