I still dream of a fellow
that would save me in my sleep
He would trace the creases on my lips
his hair would tickle the tip of my nose
and his face would be the last thing I see
along his steady breathing and heartbeat
me close onto his chest
there would be a faint smile across my face
before I fall soundly asleep
Even as I enter dreamland
it would still be his name
that's the sound of my heartbeat
He would take me to far off places
and make me feel things
I haven't dwell before
Someday, I still wish that
it would be your hands
that will intertwine mine
and that dream will slowly dissolve
into a face unfamiliar
but like home all the same
you will slowly turn into reality
closer than we've ever been before
closer that you are within my grasp
— can a girl dream, love?
why does my words find its way coming back to you? Like always.
I find it demented, and [oddly] comfortable whenever this happen. My words seem to have an attachment to you, I guess.
I don't know anymore, ji. | 180331; 1:16 am
{nj.b}