You are my blind eye to my skin stretched tight against my worn bones always too sensitive to the cold I laid my insecurities out side by side captioned in full detail as real as sight And you canceled each one out as your fingers dragged along my thighs You are tickles in my nose from the smell of smoke, the longing for a drag When Ive always turned my nose Maybe I just want to get close closer become the very matter of your bones hold you in more places than just my dreams I want to think of you when I think of Home