Next to my alarm clock, on my bedside table, I keep a note
It simply says:
"It was a dream. He's still gone."
And every morning when I wake up with a smile
And roll over to trace your lips good morning,
I see the note
I don't have to read it anymore
I know what it says
I memorized it like I memorized you
{bcg}

The night was too quiet, she was being lulled by a certain rhythm. It wasn't of the sound made by the crickets nor the song that kept on being replayed on her list. It was nothing like that. It was a rhythm that kept her lying on her bed and blinking away tears and smiling at random times when she hears it as it travels into her ears with memories too sweet to forget.

She kept remembering the rhythm of his voice now getting blurry by long distance memory. It happened in quite a long time ago. It's becoming too faint to soon would become only an echo like there in a cave too dark to step into.

--
Oh, I miss him.

~~ Criss ∞