August 29, 2016 § Leave a comment
I remember the times when you needed
no excuses for loving or hating me.
If we’d wake up in the middle of the night,
one was there for the other to talk
or make love or go and find food.
I’m losing my sadness, it’s true,
but I am the same one I was with it,
when I wrote love letters and cried,
only without hope in the early hours
and full of work the whole day.