quarta-feira, 11 de fevereiro de 2009

Old habits die hard.

Sometimes I see myself going thru my mobile contacts searching for your number, thinking about calling you to tell something good that happened or just to talk banalities.
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Missing that voice that never talked much, but was always there to hear me pouring my shit, not just because was someone to hear, but mostly because was you.
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Symbols like a number can be, that represents so many things, so many memories. Like you snoring like hell not letting me sleep or from this recent time you washing your face on the sink, so you could get rid of the cigarettes' smell, (among other things).
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Pardon me if I called you in an impulse and after realized that was a mistake hung up without saying anything.
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Gone, (trying to be optimistic), who knows what tomorrow will bring...
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Smoke and Mirrors - Who knows what tomorrow brings.

(Maybe sunshine, maybe rain)

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