Love is felt mainly in the evening, when it is gone...
It gets dark as if something grabs me by the throat and squeezes me.
And before my eyes...left---only mists.
"Are you feeling well? How are you living now? Are your days full?"
Believe me, I have many questions to ask you, but I am accumulating them inside me, because I know that you will not answer me.
As always you are not...
Are you happy?
Did you forget me? So easy? You can!
I can't. I want to, and I can't. This damn thing is eating away at me from the inside. It's not love any more, it's grave silence.
I taste neither food nor life.
I know my tears. And I know the colour of the morning sun, which brings me a change.
You are gone.
Every night I lead a monologue. There are no angels and demons in me to fight. They died. They are in the abyss.
I wonder how you succeeded?! How can you bury memories?!
I cannot...I simply cannot!
Everything touches me.
It makes me sad, drives me crazy, burns me inside.
I can't rub people like with a rubber. They rub themselves.
Is your heart healthy?!
Congratulations!
Mine is not. Broken, glued and again on salt.
I would like to keep my composure and wish you luck.
It will probably be OK someday.
Not now...
Don't tell me to stop crying.
Don't tell me it's not the end of the world as you are my world!
I am already convinced that life is not cruel, but people are...
I'm finishing.
For me you will never be a Goodbye...