He holds my hand close to his heart and tells me to feel.
To feel the beat, to feel the hurt, to feel the way he bleeds,
The love that’s mine,
The pain he cries,
He holds my hand close.
He holds my hand close to his heart and whispers secrets low,
Of dreams that broke, of paths untold, of sorrows yet to show.
The weight of nights, the silent fights, the shadows that won’t part,
He holds my hand, as if to bind my soul with all his scars.
He holds my hand close to his heart and bids me to stay near,
To trace the lines of life and time, to catch each falling tear.
The laughter lost, the endless cost, of love that cannot cease,
He holds my hand and in his grasp, I find a quiet peace.
He holds my hand close to his heart, and in that tender place,
I feel the strength of all we are, the love that none erase.
The joy, the grief, the sweet belief, that we will find our way,
He holds my hand, and with each pulse, we greet another day.