The feeling still remains
Your fingers on my cheeks
Whispering with each touch
Blessed words you speak.
The bed where we've lain
Now lies, empty and antique.
The loneliness grips my chest
As the heart wants what it seeks.
The feeling still remains
Your fingers on my cheeks
Whispering with each touch
Blessed words you speak.
The bed where we've lain
Now lies, empty and antique.
The loneliness grips my chest
As the heart wants what it seeks.