What dreams do know,
as they float about,
we sleep softly and
yet, our heads are in places much remote.
A sigh, a toss, a turn,
reliving ones loss
in the dark of night
it’s hard to know what’s wrong
what’s right?
These dreams do lie,
and play their tricks
they dangle promises on our lips
so that when we wake
the sweetest pain
just to have seen their face again.
pretty words for wicked girls 