White Lace

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.