Nothing hurts more than the ache of not being where you want to be, missing who you’d like to see. And not feeling the same way. It’s longing for something, that you know could exist. But all that it is now, is a mirage of the mind. An image you find, of nothing more than a dream.
Dreams do come true, but mostly in sleep. Yet it’s you, it’s right there, in everywhere I seek.
