Lost boy

Four minutes past three

Is the perfect time to to lie with me

Tell me all your dreams and all

The friends that you had hoped to keep

Eight minutes past four

And you’re awake again

Spreading all the photos of your

Past life 

out across the bed

Seven a.m exact

And you’ve decided you will face the facts

That maybe all the things you want

In life are never coming back

But whatever time of day or night 

The sight of you fresh in my mind

It’s 9am, you rest your eyes

I whisper, “we’re not lost, you’re mine”.


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