Thanks for the material.

I draw the covers closer still. The dreams, they come. First slowly,
then all at once. And sometimes you're there. And sometimes you're
not. But letting go is hard to do. There is a wicked tale to be woven
each night and if I sleep to dream, I dream of you. The thoughts they
dance, the wishes they mingle. And what was once is never again
because morning comes more often than not. I'm left with fading
thoughts of moments forgotten, of words unspoken.

How will I tell him he's not you. How do I say that I love a man, a
boy who's never coming back.

Do you remember the day, it was so hot. The sheets were soaked, the
fan on high. I told you I couldn't ever say goodbye. And you laughed
and I cried. It wasn't even a lie because here I am and there you are.

Tonight I drove in a blanket of darkness thinking and wondering what
the next you would be like. Wishing to feel what it was like to fall
in love all over again, to step across that threshold without knowing
what was beyond or beneath. The rushes of uncertainty. The first kiss.
The last kiss. All the ones in between.

Do you remember the day, it was so hot. You looked at me intently,
like you had something to say. And you pushed me backwards, towards
the wall. Slowly. You whispered something in my ear. Wishing that it
was something I had wanted to hear.

Do you remember the night, it was so cold. You held my hand and pulled
me closer. I shut my eyes as the snow fell all around. My feet sank
into the slippery mess below. I never wanted it to end, I never
thought it would.

But here I am and there you are. You're kissing Chinese girls and I
still can't find anyone good enough.