The Room Where You Used To Be Waiting For Me

I’m sick of lies we’ve been told,

that love is like the morning sun,

or a cold breeze in a warm day.

I unlock the room where you used to be

waiting for me with a million-dollar stare.

I can’t help but feeling mournful

when I wish to be hopeful

that one day we’ll be under the same stars

until wrinkles fill our faces.

Love is the wind in a cold day,

the sun covered by the clouds,

a distasteful sweetened tea,

when you’re not here to sweeten me.

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