Addicted to her Dreams

When I first looked at her

in her oval-shaped glasses

wearing tiny little heels,

On Monday mornings

holding her cup of coffee.

Never Knew I was gonna 

be addicted to her Dreams.

I lived like a loner 

always messing with my dreams.

I never knew what to follow

wholeheartedly.

Her stories of joy 

and the stories of her sorrow

I only listened to them carefully

A fresh early morning 

she would make out of her tired nights' sleep

And still, with those weary eyes,

she would smile silently.

No complaints of her broken dreams

and no tears in her bruised heart,

I wondered how,

I wondered if somebody knows,

But nobody knows, nobody knows.

A walk on a beach on a summer morning,
A whisper in the rains beneath an old rotten tree,
A random movie curled in her bed tears flowing,
And a lot more which I could never think would make me happy,
Thats all she dreamed.

She lived to will, and she willed to live,

and that's when I knew 

I was addicted to her Dreams.