His hands are porcelain plates
To beautiful to even touch.
I wonder when he'll start to break
And leave me here to gather dust.
When does the uncertainty fade?
That heavy weight upon my heart
Of whether we can last the day
Or even make it through the night.
He's just so delicate and pure
That I can't help thinking he's fake.
Can a smile like that exist here
In this place of tears and heartache?
How can he still have room to laugh
Knowing they just want to break him?
Who'd have thought glass could be so strong?
Especially when he says that
I'm the reason he's still alive
The only one he needs to smile
So he'll know it will be all right.
But I'm really the weaker one
Who needs songs to put me to sleep.
His hands may be porcelain plates
But, mine are made of soft white lace.
They'll shatter him and tear me up
Since we're still saying we're in love.
They just won't accept him and I
So, they'll watch us wither and die.
His kisses matter so much more
Since our time together is short.
He is my greatest treasure now
As he says my name and cries out.
I wipe tears away from his eyes
While he wakes from that same nightmare;
Where the only things that I say
Are about dust, blood, and goodbyes.
We need one another so much
That the rest of the world stands still
While we clean up the glass and cloth dust.