Hazy mornings reflect on my mind,
With you right there at the forefront.
A dancing blur of light and art;
My pencil your informant.

And though it seems a radiant tranquility,
Reality can **** a concept.
As when my eyes flutter open and aren't met with yours,
As far as I go, well, there's nothing left.

Pressure on a fracture that splits into a void,
Opening up within me.
This twisted beauty spilling out,
We can't go back now, can we?

What becomes of me in this frosty isolation,
I guess we'll never know.
With feelings that don't equate to words,
I couldn't portray the sorrow.

So I'll stay in my hazy mornings,
And try to build a home, where
There's all the beauty, light and art,
And reality can't find me there.