You are standing in front of me but only you face is here. 2 years and 2 months of chocolates with nuts, pizzas on a Saturday night, sticky bed sheets and bossa nova songs. 2 years and 2 months of sexually harassing my mind with words, promises and comfort food. 2 years and 2 months of building a home. But hey, look: You burned it down and now it smells like death, fried chicken and *****. There is a replacement of me now washing the dishes and making the bed, just like i did and just like how i was a replacement of someone else.
And this is pretty much how The days will go by. Like we are all new actors on the same old set. Changing furniture around and the pictures on the walls and buying new plants that will soon die and soon will be replaced, just like everything else. And you will keep swapping right in everything that smiles with insecurity and the burned house will be built again and you will buy more plants and more useless antiques and you will swap more to the right and every year of your life will be a new season On a the same old series That everyone loves to hate.