Jonathan

Jonathan, oh Jonathan, 

you make me feel young again, 

like I’m something beautiful, 

worthy of the time you spend.

Take me in your strongman arms, 

pull me close, dancing. 

Look at me the way they don’t, 

with nervous, sneaky glancing.

And if our world’s spit at us, 

they’re jealous. 

There’s not a thing 

that they can tell us.

Jonathan, oh Jonathan, 

you remind me of who I could have been 

if I’d had the courage to love back then. 

Well, I’ve found the courage to want again.

And when aimed eyes lash at us, 

they’re diaphanous. 

There’s not one single thing 

that they can tell us.

No, there’s not a word 

their hurt can tell us.