Soft Hands, Hard Truths

She kissed my forehead at the door and left the key inside the bowl. The softest exit I have known still left the biggest hole. Soft hands, hard truths, that's the way she always loved. She never needed heavier tools to push a man far enough. I still feel her fingers sometimes when the night gets thin and long. Soft hands, hard truths, is the shape of every song. Some people break you with their anger.