.

i didn't miss the comfort in being sad. i didn't ask you anything. i didn't want anything. i didn't want you to be part of my life and i didn't want to be a part of yours.

but you made me want all of those things i didn't. you made me wait for a little something everyday. you made me want the spring to come (what else should i be, all apologies).sorry i wasn't what you expected. my task was easier, i guess, i didn't expect anything from you. 

the saddest thing about this is that you didn't disappoint me, it was not unexpected, you just made me lose a little more of the very few faith i had on myself (good things will pass//everything stays the same)

yes, I am the same and I will never fool myself again.

it's done.

i'll do memory to erase my own memories (real and false ones) and i regret the day i stopped doing judgment and decision making, expecting that taking the best would prevent value loss.

and i'm done.

YOU ARE NOT THAT SPECIAL, BUT I WANT YOU TO WANT TO BE

Warmth

Packing and running away... is something I usually do. I'd like to say I just fly without a known destination, but that has never been the case. In any case, the known destinations are always uncertain and somewhat unknown with unknown people. In any case, I end up missing the known and people who recently started being important. Am I getting old? Maybe that's why I ran into the cold this time, because I want known warmth when I go back to the place I know...

flames...

Where did your flame go?

I hope it just left to a warmer place for a brief period of time. 

Can I feel the fire in your eyes again? Can I feel the heat in your touch again? 
I said I like you too many times and your reaction was stopping reacting to me... And that makes me start thinking that I don't attract you anymore and I have to confess that doesn't change me but breaks my heart...

Bruises...

Bruises are okay only when you hear "I love you" afterwards. 

Bruises are okay only when warm arms embrace your naked shoulders.

Bruises are okay only when everything seems certain and the fire is alive everyday.

This means that I love the bruises that your teeth leave in my skin, and I love to have the traces of you fingers pressure all over my body, and I love physical pain that takes me higher. But I love it only if you love me. The problem is that I start to really doubt it, for me words speak louder than anything else and you only seem to love me when you're able to soak your words in alcohol and turn my fire on with them...