The Special Two

by Dollwithafrown

Your hands still feel the same,
Like the first time I met you:
Cold and small and delicate;
Little boy in a big man's shoes.
Even in the summertime,
When the sun would burn your back;
I'd tease that you had dead hands;
You'd moan: "Cut me some slack!"

--

Oh I wonder now if you wondered then,
How life would change once the clock struck ten,
And after darkness you never looked back;
Bare on the concrete; a painting of blue and black.

Telling me it was "hate crime", I wonder how that could be;
I'd never met a single soul who could hate the man I see.
Were they jealous of your smile? The one that called my name.
They were only jealous as you were not the same.

They said you were a "faggot";
Said you shouldn't be allowed to live.
I'm trying to understand, but all I see
Is the kind of love they could never give.

--

Your hands still feel the same,
But now they're painted black and blue.
I'm really trying to understand,
But this is proving too hard to do.
I kiss you on your forehead,
Wave goodbye one last time to you,
Knowing I'll never get this love back,
'Cause we were the special two.