There aren’t any pretty words to say goodbye

That stranger’s still here.

I don't know why, but he’s a stranger to me now.

I decided that

I’m not gonna say his name anymore.

Trying to forget how to pronounce his letters

there’s no space in my mouth for him anymore.

I used to know you.

People say it’s sad to become strangers.

I think it’s what I need.

(I’m sorry for that)

There aren’t any pretty words to say goodbye, and I tried my best.

Saying goodbye to someone is like killing a part of that person inside you.

It’s like a funeral for the memories of someone, 

'cause you don’t know

when you’re going to see them again,

and you don’t even know if you’ll get the chance again either.

Goodbyes are like using time as soil. To bury the memories there.

Goodbye. Fuck you. Fuck, maybe I'll end up missing you.

I don't know.

(I don’t know what I’m saying)

I’m just talking to you.

To your ghost.

To your stranger ghost.

He’s been living in my room since you left.

I need to forget your smell.

I need to forget the name of your favorite Pokémon.

I have to delete some pictures of you from my social media.

Sometimes, when my brain decides to remember without the pain,

I can see a glimpse of us in the pictures we shared.

Like a piece of time now frozen in an SD card inside my phone.

Wish I could be like a camera roll, just to stop time for a while.

I’m a nostalgic bad bitch,

and you are such a @$%!!-*

I don’t know.

My psychologist says I have to bury the things we shared,

burn it.

Burn everything.

Maybe the fire’s gonna be the last heat I feel from you.

Like a hug. A wild and rude hug.

(Not in your arms).

I'm sitting by the fire where what's left of you is burning, with your t-shirt on.

I'm not gonna burn it, or bury it.

I'm gonna wear it to sleep once a month.

But you're still a stranger. Better this way.

One day I'll see you again on the street.

I won't say goodbye.

I won't remember you.

There will be no ashes left of anything.

(It’s okay).