Still no messages (and knowing I’m still no good)

.
Maybe all this shit
is about silence,
about broken vows
and breaking promises
every single morning.

Maybe I’m this crazy
because of some god
or some devil’s fault.

I look back
and doubt about us…

Maybe I loved you,
maybe I didn’t,
maybe I still do
maybe I’m falling in love
right now
and right here
(with you or with myself).

Probably it’s all about
giving me a reason to fill
- with my own blood -
the pages of this sad notebook.

It’s stupid and delicious.

It’s about
tying my shoes
every morning
on my bedroom
and untie them
every night
sited in a different couch,
next to whomever
the night brought to me.
-

You were absolutely right when you said:

“That’s the risk you have to take if you want to date a girl like her”