In the middle of the night I see you; clearly marking the path to the road of uncertainty. Dangerously, I flirt with the romanticism of the memories, and I wonder if you still do too.
The room is dark; almost the same color of our memories, the ones we managed to create in the middle of our fears; Afraid of loving, of living, of loosing; sharing that last moment, living for the last moment.
Frozen in the center of my mind are the feelings, locked and trapped in the cold, hard sense of regret and guilty pleasures. The ideas that once were, are nothing more than mere ghosts of lost hope.
And this is how we choose to go; disappear inside our memories, in desperate pledge for forgiveness and peace. I chose your lines for my play, as I am sure, you have chosen mine.
I say farewell as I have done so many times, with one hand in my heart, a new casualty for my hopes, and the fear of your sudden comeback, in the shape of a song, a smell, or a word.
How can you be somewhere else, when you never left?
