It's been one month since my last letter.
This month, I did not think of you, I really succeeded that.
Sure there is still certain things which reminds me of you, some songs, but I succeeded.

Your name leave no more that bitter taste in my mouth,
It doesn't play in repeat for hours in my head,
Your voice is a distant memory and your perfume is forgotten.
I still think of you sometimes, but it's different now, i am cured of you.

One day you will understand that I was made for you,
That I would have made you happy,
I would have give you everything of me, even  my soul.

One day you will regret,
You will think of it, vaguely, that it would have work, if you tried.