« Laying in my smoking bathtub, coffee cup in my hands, eyes closed.
I guess December’s here.
I can feel the breeze passing trough the holes of my window,
And the smell of my sweet candle cherishes my cheeks.
In my dirty mirror, the sun is slowly going down,
And the sky is slowly turning into fire.
The hot water relaxes my body, and the roses over the thick bath salt allows my naked body to be unseen.
My hair’s up in a bun, to make sure it won’t get wet. But it stills ends up wet anyways.
My eyes just go from one corner of the room to another, and my thoughts get lost in this same old space.
I always end up thinking about the same things.
You, laying with me. Your skin on my skin.
About you, pulling the bath salt away, so you can see my body, the thing that I hate the most.
You would try to convince me that I was beautiful. It never worked, and all I could do was answer with a smile.
Then you would put the hair coming out of my bun behind my ears,
You would take my face in both of your hands,
My eyes would drown in yours,
And you would say the words.
I would get lost in them, in the sound of your voice.
But you’re not there anymore.
Your smell got replaced by spices and vanilla, the bath salt is thicker than ever,
But coffee ain’t as sweet as your words. »