A place I would call home, a place filled with good looking street, decorated with wooden homes in the neighborhood and with trees and park. A place fill with so much hope yet so far to be reached.

 

And I remember that your fav city was Los Angeles, the city of angels, the city of dreams.

 

But then you're not in my dream anymore. I don't know whether I should be thankful or mourn over that. 

 

(And I think you're getting closer to your dream, you're happy out there, but hey look at me, I'm still wounded and sick of the same old love - still thinking about you.)