Hidden

Some nights I dream of you. I wake up and the first thing I think is if I should let you know.

No.

I don't know how you have weaved yourself into my mind. At first I thought I didn't mind.

I mind.

Understanding my own subconscious is driving me mad. How did you get in there.

Get out.

Thousands of miles away from anything that should remind me of you. Some how it's like your here.

Your not.

Wether it's that I miss you or that I dread the day I see you again I can't decide. I want to hide.