YOu know you and I are a part of this dream and it keeps coming again and again. I can't help it from happening you know. It's disturbing at times, at times it just reminds me that I am still me. It's a Sunday morning and I wake up to a mild cold breeze grazing my face, it is somewhat cold. your side of the bed is empty, my eyes are hardly open. It must have been like dawn or before that, like 5:30 or sumthin. I see the creases on the sheet, it feels silken as I wipe my hand over it. And then I wake up, like become more conscious. Wrapping a cover around me, I walk into the patio, to see you lean on the railing, looking down. Thirteenth floor. You're smoking. I stand next to you and you give me a cursory glance. I smile and look away. Then I lean on you and you hold me from my waist.. And both of us look at the sky, waiting for sun-rise. Reddish and quiet. The mild cold breeze is still there, brushing my hair, our faces. And then time freezes.

You and I meet again, to part and then meet again. this dream stays