It was the beginning I had always wished for
I carried all those lights toward you
And softly, I shouted, “I love this.”

Colors poured from you in endless streams
I was amazed by everything I saw
And holding your hand, all I felt was warmth

I suffered so much while you watched me fall
I was breaking, all because I didn’t know

For everything I saw in you, Bruno
You were meant for me—in another world with an end

I kept running, only to fall again
Friends telling me how good it was
Yet I was the one who got to have you

When you were cold, I tried to be the sun
When you erased, I filled the space with imagination
Only to be abandoned where I first met you

For everything I saw in you, Bruno
You were meant for me—in another world with an end
Two hands that could never heal
I hope now you find yourself

And don’t think I abandoned you,
But I was dying without knowing,
A grave I was meant to belong to
All of them screaming at me,
And I was terrified of being the one to fail,
The chosen one to fall,
The right one to lose

Months of suffering, drowning in doubt,
No clues to tell me if I was ever truly there

How long did I suffer, being the wrong reflection?
Trying to erase mistakes when I was already making them

I was sacrificed for your weak conviction,
For a bit of doubt, for your confusion,
Now I wait in blood for what you made me lose
And I understand now how I could have been more,
How I won you over,
How I became so much more than loss

So, Bruno, have a lovely night
Surrounded by stars and that moon you love

Why does everything move forward? That’s what I want to know.
Do you stop because of fear, or are they doubts as you grow?
Why does everything continue? Without light, you can’t see.
Sometimes I feel that the morning has ceased to be.

I must walk carefully through this vast, abandoned hall,
and I repeat my steps towards the end because I’ve given no more to them.

Why does everything keep moving? Is it that I move with everything too?
Maybe with little breath, it’s what I must do.
Why is everything spinning? Perhaps it’s a strange dance,
where no one hears you, and only you have a chance.

I turn back just to witness how you take my hands from behind,
and in my ear, you whisper that once again, you’ll leave me behind.

And it’s on these nights that I can’t stop asking,
beneath this moon, impossible to admire,
I return home, and my eyes start to close,
Could it be that everything moves forward, or am I afraid to turn?