Soft Hands, Hard Truths

While the words cut clean and deep.
The softest touch I ever felt was the one that made me weep.
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.
She packed her things without a fight,
Folded clothes with steady care.
I watched her move around the room like she was never really there.
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.