Sometimes I want you to think of me, sometimes I want to forget all about you… It’s not the thing I want to leave home… You are playing this game as an escapee… You are sitting with your brown hair as a blond one… You know nothing about English literature history but you read sonnets from Shakespeare, sometimes you are all in silence, but you tell me you were talking about me and my face, you want me to believe that you are a fast driver at night, but you always ask if there is a speed limit or not, you pray for me to live longer but you offer me more cigarettes by saying “you’re so beautiful behind the smoke!”, you trust me, but you are always asking why I am late, you believe in me, you are always losing in more and more questions, you want me by you, and you leave me alone for hours as you need time to think about everything, you dance the flamenco with no rhythm and speed, you are so motionless to be followed on the street, you tell how you love me deeply, you are always watching other beautiful eyes, you are always the most compassionate lover but you fall asleep while I am crying, you always sing me French songs but you have never known the meaning of even one word in French, “M’aimes-tu?”, I have some real suspense and doubt if I really love the blond man or brown one…
