I’m not quite sure how I got here, Or why your stare makes fear feel safe. It's like you can read the aura of me, Though, maybe you just read my face.
I'm not quite sure I deserve this; To have butterflies shatter my pride, And you perfectly see the broken parts That for so long I've had to hide.
Yet, It’s not in this moment I know that I’ve fallen, It’s the one-hundred in-between. All the times I’ve played "connect-the-dots ' With freckles upon your cheek.
All the times I’ve stared in the mirror, And I’ve cursed at my reflection. For the face I see Doesn’t seem like me; Just a trick, or some deception.
And then all the times I pause . And all the times that I think That the view I see I’d love with glee, If you were stood there next to me.
I'm not quite sure I'm courageous, As when our fingers intertwine, You unveil the curtain of boldness I so often cower behind.
Still, you cling on tight to that hand; Search for secrets in it's embrace. But, you'll find no truth in reading my palm; It's all written upon my face.
Sureness is a fickle thing, love is constant and still. And right now I'm sure I love you, And I hope I always will. And if I'm not courageous, or if I can't be bold. Well then at least I know I'll always have your hand to hold.