Aww. I did. I kept you in my memory. Deep hidden... but still there. Every time a piano is pulsed I remember your hands, and then your look came to my eyes, perhaps your smell still hangs in my nose… What happened in all these years since we don’t see each other? I wonder…
Do you remember all those days of guitars and chords? The afternoons enjoying croissants with coffee & milk… or pizza & concert nights... I do, like if they’re never gone. And I miss you so much.
I miss the music we created; I miss your shy company, your long figure trying to wait for my little steps so we could go together to the rehearsal room. I miss the way you used to express yourself through notes and lyrics. Because, in some way, we spoke the same language.
Where are you now? Have you found love in your way? Have you tried to open up to the world as I taught you? I want to believe that you still remember me too, just like this, like the girl with maroon curly hair which sang like angels and kissed like demons…
I dreamed of you. I don’t remember exactly what. But somehow all the pain of our rupture turned over me. I really loved you, silly boy; very much. And never told you so, because it was already a pain uneasy to deal with. It doesn’t matter; you knew it.
And it is still a pain the price you’ve paid for your friendship, baby... I’m still paying my part.
You’re the best song I sang, but the love scar that hurts the most.
No one else has played my guitar like you since then… no one.
