Don’t forget me, I ask you for that. Let me live with the guilty, with the pleasure of being wrong and doing the wrong. It makes me feel alive when I’m alone.
I reach for eyes that I’ll never know truly. I look for the company of someone who won’t be by my side for too long. I look forward for rediscover someone who does not belong here.
I trust someone who does not deserve it and I’m loosing myself as I laugh for someone who did a terrible joke. I’m living as if I’m missing. I’m living when I’m missing.
I don’t let go details that didn’t use to bother me at all and I don’t recognize me when I walk down the streets with a stranger calling my name.
And I just want to feel the rain on my skin.