I know it seems I let you go. I know it seems I catched time, and now it belongs to me. But I haven't let you go, and time doesn't belong to me.
I know it seems I don't care for you, or for this distance, so crude, painfull and real. All the silence does make it feel even more real, but I can't help it, 'cause, ok, I'm letting it go now, I don't want to be the only one in pain. I don't want to be the only one who remembers all of it, all the steps in the dark, or twilight, all the sounds, all the cries and smiles, and laughs. I don't. I close my eyes and I see you coming. But you're not smiling, you are coming to let me know you don't remember any of us, nothing we were. You're coming to tell me we never were anything, just an excuse to bear with loss and heart burns. You are coming to let me know I'm so foolish for believing love is real, and memories are eternal. You are not coming to stay, just like we were born to be apart. And it all doesn't hurt anymore, it's just so scary for not having any opportunity for change and mutation. I am a mutation of you. And you walk in my skin, and you live inside me. I will let you go when and where you want to go; you can go and let all doors open. But just let it be like that. Don't close them.

I know it seems I forgot. But it's all masks. Can't you see? It seems Carnival. It seems lonely, it's a long road without civilization, it seems like a dark winter. It seems despair, and an eternal prision.
I know I could send letters, I know I could touch more. I know it's always you who call; I know it's always me who says I miss you.

But I just can't live with or without you. And so, then, I just keep myself sitting. Waiting. Wishing.