Think of me as a dream. I come to you in the depths of your despair and sit beside your motionless, sleeping body. The stars do not have to shine for them to be beautiful in your eyes, neither does the solitary teardrop that forms rivulets round the contours of your cheek as it flows to its inevitable end. You can say, or do nothing wrong in my world of the subconscious. Before the sun rises, you are mine.


Think of me as a dream for when you finally open your eyes, I would not be around any longer.