Those sleepless nights in my bed alone with a cup of brewed coffeeWhile hugging my pillows and hiding under the cozy blanketThose countless hours ticking byThat is when I had mastered the art of missing you~
You don't love me.Even when you see me shedding in tearsYour heart doesn't ache anymore.You don't love me.There is no other reason.That is all.That is how you really feel.
Believe me, this was true last night,Tho' it is false to-day.-- A.M.F. Robinson.A fair dream to my chamber flew:Such a crowd of folk that stirred,Jested, fluttered; only you,You alone of all that band,Calm and silent, spake no word.Only once you neared my place,And your hand one moment's spaceSought the fingers of my hand;Your eyes flashed to mine; I knewAll was well between us two.On from dream to dream I past,But the first sweet vision castMystic radiance o'er the last.
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,And laid them away in a box of gold;Where long will cling the lips of the moth,I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth;I hide no hate; I am not even wrothWho found earth’s breath so keen and cold;I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth,And laid them away in a box of gold.