she asked me, 'what do you get from him?'
I said I didn't know
I think what keeps me going back
the truth that I don't show
is feeling that for the first time
I'm really not alone

living for ephemeral touches
most of the time apart
wrenching little pieces off
the fabric of our hearts
in lieu of the whole garment

so back I go, again and again
wondering why it had to be him
knowing we'll never have what we want
a life out of reach, seeming to taunt
powerless against his allure