Soft Hands, Hard Truths

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.
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.
Some with silence, cold and wild.
She broke me with a gentleness voice,
And nowhere left to hide.
I would have preferred the shouting.
It would have been easier to hate.