I wait for you every day—
from the first breeze of morning
till the last yawn of my night.
Do I matter to you the same?
I wish, every day, to dance beneath your shine—
the one that falls like solitaire,
the one that whispers hope into the quiet.
Will I ever be the same for you?
I get jealous of the ones who are loved,
wondering how it would feel
to stand beneath your warmth
as though I belong there.
Oh my Twilight!
how can you still not see?
I will wait every day
for the one I loved—
even if you ask me
to stay in the shadows.
Nov 25, 2025
Nov 25, 2025 at 9:36 AM UTC
I wait for you every day—
from the first breeze of morning
till the last yawn of my night.
Do I matter to you the same?
I wish, every day, to dance beneath your shine—
the one that falls like solitaire,
the one that whispers hope into the quiet.
Will I ever be the same for you?
I get jealous of the ones who are loved,
wondering how it would feel
to stand beneath your warmth
as though I belong there.
Oh my Twilight!
how can you still not see?
I will wait every day
for the one I loved—
even if you ask me
to stay in the shadows.
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