Do you still think about me?
he asked but never spelled.
Poorly he knew
she actually heard.
He wonders if she wakes up every morning
under the light of the sun.
And if she still would like
to touch his hair and his arms.
He's thinking if may she
is still hearing that song
that much remind her of him
and dance all along.
He ask himself every time
if her words are still his,
and if she gets inspired to write
when she thinks about him.
He has this question in his head
that would love to surface:
Do you still think about me
every single day?
He wonders in the morning.
He wonders in the night.
He wonders and he wonders,
but he never ever ask.
