Another morning,
Another short text,
I pour out my heart,
Yet I am perplexed.
The reply I get,
Is just what a sent,
A few words differ
to discredit my lament.
As midday comes
you start to come around.
But still in your words,
no passion can be found.
I yearn for the days,
that have recently passed.
My mind, like your passion,
has slipped through my grasp.
As night falls,
You become more familiar.
Yet still I can't trust you.
You're only her mirror.
Your goodnight seems almost perfect,
Like the ones from nights before.
But in the morning you'll be someone else.
Then we'll see what's in store.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 2:13 PM UTC
Another morning,
Another short text,
I pour out my heart,
Yet I am perplexed.
The reply I get,
Is just what a sent,
A few words differ
to discredit my lament.
As midday comes
you start to come around.
But still in your words,
no passion can be found.
I yearn for the days,
that have recently passed.
My mind, like your passion,
has slipped through my grasp.
As night falls,
You become more familiar.
Yet still I can't trust you.
You're only her mirror.
Your goodnight seems almost perfect,
Like the ones from nights before.
But in the morning you'll be someone else.
Then we'll see what's in store.
