You get use to someonestart to like them evenand they leave. In the end everyone leaves.

I had a dream about you. You were writing names and numbers in a book and I asked if that was a phone book or the Book of Life. You answered in a way that blinded me with light and I grew afraid. So I said Hey what is that over there and I pointed over your shoulder and when you turned to look I scribbled my name on the bottom of page one.

I bring you with reverent hands The books of my numberless dreams.