The Phantom.

There is a certain silence,

that spreads like a virus,

and comes from a lifeless object like your head,
that lives in you for a very long time.

There are dreams that cannot be reached,

from an old wooden armchair in the corner of the room.
There's a love that cannot be found,

from a piano with dust upon its keys.

There is a stillness between us.

In the darkness of the night,

I'm searching for your eyes,

your hands, your voice.

I was there,

trying to unravel the real reason why you left,

why you loved me before,

with an open wounds.

The boy is a thunderstorm.

He's my North, my South, my East, and my West.

My broken instrument, my glossary,

he's the key of destruction.

The boy lives in this lonely world too long.

With frail wings and fragile heart,

he gradually becomes transparent,

unable to be seen.

Hold on to me, Demetri.

You're no longer a phantom in their darkest days.

You're a human,

and I won't consider you as my enemy.

We were never meant to be more than two souls.

We knew that.

But I want you to find me, and walk close to me.

Give me another chance to hold you tighter than before.