Room

Back to this room

Where the window has been always close

As well as the door with broken lock

Staring straight at white plain ceiling

Where fan is hanging and spinning fast

The after rain is still little freezing

I like how the temperature pressures my skin

Reminds me of that vague warmth of your palms

Whenever you brushed my hair with care

Or when you wrapped me in your arm with love

In this room I start to missing someone like you

Someone that can only be found in my imagination

Someone that is more more wonderful than dreams I had

Because fantasy works better than dream itself

-June 22, 2019, 4:29 PM-