Missing a stranger

The months with its climate can go by that my feet will start to drag leaves to then drag the echo of another lonely night. And my bones know that today another one of your drunken words will come. It's that my lips will tremble as they savoured the past in which you brought me the heat of alcohol. And I know that at some other time we would have been a promise that the wind could never have taken away.

But that was then and this is now, 

the now where my fingers do no longer know how to answer what doesn't move them, as they don't know how to close the door that used to be a close heart of you. 

But lives have passed since the last time our voices came together in harmony, and at that moment you said the same thing as now as I in that second thought the same as on this summer fall night.

Somewhere in us, I understand that perhaps and maybe you have honest feelings when you say it. That it is like the cat looking for affection in my legs that always likes to run away from everything that wants to give me that extra life necessary to keep breathing. 

However, I also know how your black eyes were never reflected in the path of mine, that yours are words from the beginning of a game.

But it is as I said, the weeks have passed with the regression of everything that we had survived. My hair has moulded in the absence of your gestures and my heart has gotten older, his mind flickers and your name is forgotten. 

So if you send me a missing me that is the same as greeting a stranger, it will leave me with the taste in my mouth that I can never explain and I no longer have a smile to remember. Nor I longer have the fingers that crave to catch.

Now, I only have the balcony that knows me better than you will ever do, 

Now I see myself only available to say that I can't keep saying you goodbye

Ta.