Do you ever question the hands that touch you?
The arms that keep you warm at night?
Do you look around in hopes to find answers?
But only find empty conversation?
Have you ever stared into someone else’s eyes and seen them looking back,
And feared they knew you better then you knew yourself?
But then to have that feeling robbed from you first hand,
To look them in the eyes and notice a sudden change in movement
Do you ever question the hands that touch you?
