reaching out to you,
all i grasp is the still, stale air.
i don't get you,
i don't understand you,
i don't,
know what your heart says.
but i know,
you won't tell me,
no matter how hard i wish you would,
my secret wishes won't ever come true,
they're just,
broken dreams, self-deceive.
wishes are suppose to come true,
as long as i believed,
but i have believed,
for so long so long,
why aren't they coming true?
why are they shattered time n again?
that innocent smile which captivates
`[1:10 AM]
