The Same

The Same

I’m brokenhearted just because that is the way

it should be.

Me without you.

You without me.

And the World keeps on going around as if

everything were the same.

And it is, for sure.

While to me (in my twisted point of view of

how this whole story should be) nothing is right

cause this is not the end I believed in.

Now you are another man wearing the same boots,

so different that sometimes it is really hard for my eyes
to see it is you in front of me.

I am pretty different too. So different that in a glance

in the mirror

(in the same old loo where a tiny black spider lives)

I do not recognize myself. That woman is not me and

I do not know if, one day,

I will get to the conclusion about who 

she is.