"smile at me, baby,
show me those dimples
I can feel your heart beat
straight through muscle, cotton, skin
you got me got me goin' baby
won't you let me in
those eyes they're blue like water
straight transparent shore,
you got me me going baby,
I'm only wantin' more
cause don't you tell me
you're all alone in this world
without a lover, baby, without a girl
cause I'm right here my darlin'
a shoulder for you to lean on
baby my love will remain
long after I'm gone
so smile at me baby
show me those dimples
and I can feel your heart beat
straight through muscle, cotton skin
you got me goin' me baby
won't you let me in"

I sing it like Billie Holiday would, hope my dead voice doesn't crackle where I need it to be smooth, and feel a fool, voice echoing through an empty kitchen, my parents drunk, asleep (and me, drunk, awake - substance abuse is only a state of mind). Shae would appreciate it, loves hearing me croon. In his moments of panic (prone to anxiety, attacks that bring him to the fetal position, not breathing, not thinking, blind panic that frankly I've never known) my voice singing low is the only thing, only solitary tired sound that can keep him from breaking. Keep him from ceasing to inhale until he passes out.