keep telling myself that I'll love you in the morning,
But it's a white lie,
The color of the walls,
Something that means more than it should,
You were a moment in the time,
A place that I could escape to…
But the longer I stay here,
The more I can see though you,
How your hair falls slightly above your eyes,
And how you sleep with your mouth half open,
I keep telling myself that I'll love you in the morning,
But the sun is creeping ever so close now… and I feel unchanged.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem