He comforts me.
His voice can hold and captivate me as no one’s can.
And though I’ve never felt his moon-kissed skin,
He’s touched me,
Touched my soul,
Crept into my emotions,
And made me feel.
To have half his passion,
Half his strength.
Very few can make words into a feeling as he has,
All the words I’ve felt belong to him,
I feel the wind in him,
I feel the gentle mist of the shores of England.
I feel his tears.
He makes me want to cry,
Or run,
Or fall in love.
In his thoughts I’m no longer bound.
He has released me,
I can feel his beauty,
See so much more emotion.
He’s made me believe there’s more,
More than my red brick house and white picket fence.
He takes me through Wigan,
Paris, Germany, and Spain.
He makes me move.
He makes me want to live,
Instead of merely being alive.