• The Open Window

    It used to mean so much more to me,
    This open window.
    I used to dream you’d come to me
    In the middle of the night.
    That you would creep outside while I was sleeping,
    Open the window and fly inside,
    Sit by my bedside and talk to me through the night.
    But that was so long ago, when you were mine.
    Now we are so far apart, I can’t see you when I close my eyes.
    It used to mean so much more to me,
    This open window.
    But now it’s just a ventilation, a hastle.
    It’s an open window to let in the air, so realistic, so average.
    It used to be a door to a fantasy that is no more believed.

    I missed this open window, at night by habit it still opens.
    I miss of the visions of you I’d see as I slept in the night.
    I miss the protecting feeling, the feeling of being whole.
    I still dream of a shadow that creeps in an out in the darkness,
    Sitting on the side of my bed, whispering softly as I slept, pretending I heard.
    But now it’s so empty – and I feel as if I’d lost something important
    This open window used to mean so much more.
    Now it’s just an empty hole reminding me of things I’ve lost.
    Reminding me I’ve lost you.