Sleep Token: Stolen Moments
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Your hands are a masterpiece I can admire only from afar, like a priceless painting behind bulletproof glass. I imagine those hands on my skin, tracing patterns as intricate as the rhythms you create. But I can't. I won't.
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- Part 1 of Sleep Token: Stolen Moments
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I reach out, my fingers barely grazing the soft fabric of your sleeve. It's a gesture as fragile as a butterfly's wing, but it carries the weight of all I cannot say. You pause mid-sentence, your gaze softening as it meets mine. In that moment, I know you understand. You always do.
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- Part 2 of Sleep Token: Stolen Moments