Sometimes late at night I stare outside my window.
Looking for hope or a strange thing to occur.
Lost in thoughts and captivated by memories.
Listening to the whistle the window makes while I see the trees move with that winter breeze. Moonlight shine the streets and the stars always seem to sneak out at night. While I try to count some there is always seem to be more and more on my lonely nights.
Tears flow down on those rare moments of disbelief.
What I use to have no longer lives within me.
That passion and drive has died awhile back.
This feeling of hope is what I lack.
The best part of love is the moment itself.
But never love is great when you share it with yourself.