What a strange brother you make
With your shallow words so sincere.
And all the things you break
Unwittingly.
While I sit and paint all the things forgotten
That never were.

There is a bruise on my hand where you held it.
And tears in my eyes
Where you looked at them without seeing.
If only I could take your heart and mend it.
If only I could
Make the world beautiful,
Beautiful for you.

You look past me
Mind on other people, places.
At yet there was a time when your mind was mine alone to see.
And still I know you before you know yourself.
As I sit here and write of all the things forgotten
That never were.

There is a bruise on my hand where you held it.
And tears in my eyes
Where you looked at them without seeing.
If only I could take your heart and mend it.
If only I could make
The world beautiful
Beautiful for you.

And one day when we are old,
Freedom forgotten and
Everything not needing telling, told.
We will sit, while the kettle boils,
And speak of all the things forgotten
That never were.

There is a bruise on my hand where you held it.
And tears in my eyes
Where you looked at them without seeing.
If only I could take your heart and mend it.
For I could not make the world beautiful
Beautiful for you.

Lli