Every now and again I find myself searching for your face in a crowd.
“snap out of it” I tell myself
“You have places to be and people to meet”
So I go on,
satisfied that I no longer have to analyze our twisted love story.
Then we meet again.
Always In that place where time doesn’t exist.
But you’re never quite who you are in my dreams and loving me seems to be nightmare for you.
Yet every night I smell scents of your perfume in the wind.
Either you’re elusive or I’m delusional.
Blinded by deception or hiding my obsession.
With ever scar I feel a little more alive.