He doesn;t have to move at all. He stands
His shape is perfect yet his edges rough.
And like a broken glass, they cut through you.
Yet pain is welcome coming through these hands.
I;m hanging on to every word he says,
So silently that I can hear my breath.
He doesn;t have to move at all. He stands,
My world is spinning right around him...
...His shape is perfect yet his edges rough.
I want to understand, to touch, to feel.
And when we dance, I know I have enough,
So I am here and stay for him I will.