The Boy with the Rough Hands

He had the softest eyes and the roughest hands
And I had a heart made of glass.
They were calloused and scarred as he'd grab handfuls of stars
Not willing to let anything pass.

And then he met me and could easily see
Himself through my mirrored heart.
Though the words that he spoke
were just mirrors and smoke,
I believed, and I played the part.

I traced all his scars and his scratches
As they felt like home to me.
Then with those soft, sweet eyes
He looked into mine
And said it'd be best for him to leave.

"I don't love you like I used to"
As he played with his ravaged fingers.
It took all that I had
to keep from grabbing those hands
But still, their rough warmth lingered.

The months have passed and I still recall
How he said he had loved me from the start.
They say sticks and stones may break your bones,
But words can shatter
a heart.