I left you behind.
I left your love.
You were so funny and showed me life
as something I had already imagined
but never thought it could be true:
all challenges were something great
and every pain some kind of pleasure.
You've told me to give a chance
to love and to hate
and to laugh of myself more often,
to listen to bad songs with no prejudice,
to party, to try the cold
as much as the hot.
With you life was much more
about doing than thinking...
Guided by fascination and desire,
I knew at some point
I'd lose my senses of direction,
belonging,
identity
and limit.
Yes, I've feared freedom.
I told myself love was to belong
rather than feeling, and
persistence was the greatest proof;
responsability, the biggest gesture
So I left you behind.
I left you, love.
And now I ask myself: for what?
