Again. Here again. The same as always. The same, do you see? You say it's not. Not this time. But it sounds the same. Sounds like a lie. You kiss me, o u l e a v e. You leave, o u k i s s m e. You say you feel, but never think. Again, you. Déjà vu. Again, this. Again, you. We b r e a k apart, then we heal. We swear, we hate, then we feel. Again, you. Déjà vu. But this time… it’s me, not you. The same gestures. " " script. " " laughter. " " goodbye. You say "I love you", but it’s automatic. It’s just a reflex. It’s a habit. You kiss me, o u l e a v e. You leave, o u k i s s m e. You say you feel, but never think. Again, you. Déjà vu. Again, this. Again, you. We b r e a k apart, then we heal. We swear, we hate, then we feel. Again, you. Déjà vu. But this time… it’s me, not you. No ending, no return. No script, no more words. No healing, no forgiveness. No more, it’s over.
