How to never love,
a promise you once made.
To stay here forever,
While the ink will fade.
Well I carried the book as it was getting old,
When covered in dust I cleaned it carefully.
(With the salt and the love offered by my tears.)
I was singing the words I watched disappears.
The lignes were dying,
I was bleeding with them,
If the story's silent can I scream an Amen ?
I will start doubting.
How I could be real,
If a temporary manuscript,
Erased my secondary self.
Now tell me.
Could I just have been ?
A trick, your precocious mind,
Should better forgetting ?
s
o
Forgive me Wendy,
If I burn the pages
Of a book
w h
o ' s
n o t
m e.
