when the morning comes/(goes)

I must be dreaming. It all seemed too good to be true. Hearing the pitter patter of the rain on my windows, I got up and just stared into the misty distance. Like how I looked straight into your eyes for the very first time.

I liked it. The little raindrops splattering on my face, I didn’t care to close the windows. I’ll leave it open. To say that I am used to the cold air would be a lie. Now I know why you always liked the windows open wide. It is refreshing.

I like the idea of how mornings are a sign of renewal – A new day. But every day, I find myself, still waiting. I try to get myself distracted with other stuff, but all I do, I am still missing my time with you.

It’s November now. It used to be my favourite month of the year but with essay deadlines and finals approaching, I am running on empty – and I’ll trade everything for it to be December, for the winter cold with snowflakes on my tongue, for the dream I had last night of you.

There I go again – Trying to find that oh, elusive peace of mind.

Too good to be true.

Tell me what I should do: Should I retire with the night or wait for morning to come?

The world just seems so far away.

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