You are the something I hold onto when the holding gets hard,
When I’m convinced that life on its own is only weary,
When I’m sure angels have wings of spades and
There’s only works of art when there are
Addictions, time breaks, words spoken too quickly to be heard.
You are the something,
Innocent to all the things I spend my life trying with all my soul
To come to terms with,
To say farewell to,
To cry too hard about when it has all left too soon.