Skin barely, but it’s taut and carried
Through starless sky to blackest ground
Changing states in a seamless gradient

Hearing in the way I speak to you how far I went
To be alone here, and still, pressing hands
Nothing left to reach with, yet it’s closeness
Like seeing an old friend when he

Holds me with eyes that sing
I am not the man for him
Holds me with eyes that sing
I am not the man for him

I collect the dew falling from his chest
I collect all the thorns wrapped around his quietness
I wish he would remove the blade from my neck
I know he waits for me to do it myself when he

Holds me with eyes that sing
I am not the man for him
Holds me with eyes that sing
I am not the man for him

And there has never been a sharper object
Than the dawn when it’s unraveling over my skin
And the waiting when I’m tracing the shadow of his arm on me
When I feel the weight growing under him
He holds me with eyes that sing
I am not the man for him
Holds me with eyes that sing
I am not the man for him