I don't understand people.
I never did.

How did we walk together
the same path,
but only one of us felt it,
got hurt,
cried,
and keeps doing so
for an indefinite time?

Beautiful words were said,
but they weren't truly beautiful,
because they didn’t last.
They were just decorated words
with a love created
by the imagination of a heart
that only wanted
a reciprocal love.

I don’t see him,
we don’t speak,
but the presence created
by pain itself
hurts more
than the real memory.

I don’t understand people.
And I never did.
But I’m not different.
Only, when I made someone suffer,
I didn’t suffer
and I forgot,
because I’m a person.