So much can be misconstructed
So much can be misunderstood
So much can say, "I love you."
You put your arm around me
When I was about to fall.
A touch can mean so much to me:
A brush of the arm,
A hand
A touch can mean so much to me
But not as much to you
A touch means love to me
A touch means kindness to you.
How I hate it when you look at me
The caring way you do
How I hate it when you talk to me
In the thoughtful way you do.
Do you know how much it hurts me?
Do you know how much it makes me cry?
Do you know how much it kills me?
When I want to say "goodbye"?
But I can't form the word?
I wish I could touch your hand
To feel it's gentle warmth
I wish I could cry upon your shoulder
When I'm cold and lost.
But then you touch me
And then you say, "you'll pull through"
And it kills me
That I know I can't be with you.
