Dear you,

I don't really know why,
Yet I am still writing to you,
Hoping that you'll read this.

But to my fear,
I hope you don't.

Days have becoming longer,
The sunrise feels dimmer and the moon is covered by white giant clouds.  

The flowers are blooming beautiful,
Just like you when you donned the
majestic blue dress.

I don't really know why,
For me to still waiting for a miracle,
For us to be in synonymous, I guess?

It's too early to call but some say,
Late is better than never.

I think I'll grow tired of this feeling,
But I hope I'll never cease from writing to you again.

So that you'll know how I feel all this while,
Only for you not to notice.

With regrets and foolishness,
(1.21am, 18th August 2017)