Everything passes. It has to. That's the beauty and tragedy of it.
Every day, I wake up soaked in a sense of unreality.
Every day, I take a little bit longer to get out of bed.
Every day, I promise myself tomorrow will be different.
And every day, I’m proven wrong…
I go through the day emotionally drained.
Worn out like an ancient, forgotten, frayed carpet
That will probably tear for good with the next tread.
At night, when I hit the pillow, my head bursts
Into a gazillion sleep-repelling, recurrent questions.
Every night, I dream of fairy tale endings.
Every night, I shun the old doubts creeping in.
Every night, I curse the day we said goodbye.
Every night, I miss your kiss on my soul…