Maybe it would hurt a little less

If you could just be a footprint in the sand,
That washed away with the tide,
Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.

If you were a sandcastle I spent all day building,
With turrets and princesses trapped in it's towers,
And a drawbridge that led to the place where our love grows,
And a wave knocked it all down,
It would still hurt less.

If I built us a little house to live in,
With terra cotta walls,
Lace over the windows,
A back yard for the dog to play in,
And a flower garden out front,
And a hurricaine knocked the whole thing down,
Reduced it to rubble and mud and ash,
It would still hurt less.

If I painted the walls with flowers,
And the night sky and life and death and birth,
And it always smelled like dinner and muffins and pie,
If I lit candles to protect us every night,
And always got you up on time for work,
And we grew old together,
And one night you passed in your sleep,
It would still hurt way less.

If we had children and we named them after myths,
Little faces that looked like you and me,
Little you's and little me's dancing around,
Learning to sing, play, laugh, and cry,
And it turned out just to be a daydream,
It would hurt less.

If I had made the whole thing up,
And you never loved me,
Never knew me,
If the whole thing was a figment of my imagintion,
It would most certainly hurt less than this.