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I spend my life just trying to hold a hand
Porcelain fingers slip through woven lies
Take me in and then push me out
No more leading minds through piped dreams.
It's the morning when you wash the sheets
Realizing you will roll over on to cold memory
Your arm filled with plush, cold digression.
It's when you wipe a tear away from your cheek,
That you realized how happy your life could be.
And that it stopped yesternight.
No going back.
Just slight touches filled with hollow words.
The kind you'll never hear, and only remember.
Remember from those dreams.
