And when I reach out to touch you
You always slip from my grasp
Like a feather through the air
Sunlight spilling between my fingertips
I hear your whisper through the hallway
Then turn to find myself alone
I feel your heartbeat against my palm
Then open my eyes to find it empty
I see your silhouette in the streetlights
Then approach to find not even a ghost
You traced your fingers through this town
Like it were made of clay
Like it might have been a masterpiece
If you had just held on long enough
Now all I have left are sketches and outlines
And half-lives of what used to be
And I will never touch you again
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 7:42 PM UTC
And when I reach out to touch you
You always slip from my grasp
Like a feather through the air
Sunlight spilling between my fingertips
I hear your whisper through the hallway
Then turn to find myself alone
I feel your heartbeat against my palm
Then open my eyes to find it empty
I see your silhouette in the streetlights
Then approach to find not even a ghost
You traced your fingers through this town
Like it were made of clay
Like it might have been a masterpiece
If you had just held on long enough
Now all I have left are sketches and outlines
And half-lives of what used to be
And I will never touch you again
