I can feel the furtive outreach
the unseen fingers brushing my cheek
breathing in my hair when
you perhaps don't think I feel it.
I can smell the scent of hope
when you brush by me on my
walks through this life and
perhaps you think I
don't see you.
I turn my face, my
sullen, angry face,
so that you won't know I
see you cry.
So that I
can't see you cry.

And the lines in my hands deepen.
Has my fate changed?
The scars on my flesh multiply.
My soul is still the same.

When I sing I think you know
it is for you.
I sense us drifting further apart but
this connection is
neverending.
Always a rope between us,
if I could only learn to
pull.
I make plans and
you laugh.
I dream of stability and
you shake your head.
I wish for an easy way
and I am denied.
You never could let this girl go
but it's ok,
I can still feel you
sometimes.

And the lines in my hands move.
Has this destiny been altered?
The scars on my flesh heal
only to be replaced with new ones.