The thing about staying up so late until the sun peeks in the East is that you're scared he'll end up existing in your dreams, again — with you wrapped around his arms, warm kisses on your forehead, that minty, vague breath you admire, his memorable and addictive scent on his favorite lazy, plain, white t-shirt, and those times where you feel guarded and secured, but most importantly, feel loved and admired and felt like you're the woman of his world — and then when you wake up, everything goes back to zero.
And when you sleep again, he'll be waiting for you — but it's only in the dream where the most prickly fact lies that it's not real.
//Darius Razzle Cargo Paciente