Oh hello you.
It’s been a while since we talked.
Maybe I’m poping this out of nowhere but,
I dont miss you, maybe I do, miss us.
But I think at some point it was meant to happen.
And maybe my seat will be useful to others .
But damn it feels good to bring silence,
to ask for silence, and to be heard.
I know you hate silence but I can finally hear myself think, and most importantly.
It’s the first time I don’t have to listen to your answers.
Because I know the circle is noisy and maybe it’s because we’ve been used to build out of noisiness.

Once somebody told me that this place give words value.
And maybe now,
I think differently.
But the animal’s noises that we make trying to reproduce the movement, hit the walls, then the floors the ceilings but always miss the goal.
Waiting for virgin cells to penetrate.
It goes from one point to an other without crossing my mind.
Maybe I get hit differently because the seat wasn’t made for me.

And through the acting, something is missing.
Maybe I do miss me ?
Maybe I missed the «I» in your sentence.
And out of this, what am I ?
Maybe too premature to permeate.
What do you think I am ?

Even if our movement pushed me out,
It’s with a step back,
That I stand again.
And perhaps this raspy place I love,
Isn’t made to be loved.
But I’ll cherish.

I don’t know why I called you.
I knew you’d never answer.
Even if you live thanks to your flight mode.
I need to feel the void and your echo.
It was so easy to get down.
But I’d like to stay.
In a way you brought me comfort.
Even if your weight bends my back.
I get used to comfort.