where my hand’s rested
i know what i’ve told you before. my eyes close, my hands clasp around your’s and i weep.
that isn’t me, not even a little bit. i want to smile, i want to walk with you and i want to read stories. my eyes welled up when i first knew you cared. when i realized how much i could have collapsed. for the first time i realized that my adoration wasn’t based on something i thought was there or something i hoped was there but something i had seen.
driving with your eyes open is a good idea. forget what they say.