I lie. I let you go. Once you open the trunk it will be empty. I left somethings that might be useful to you. Once night came I made my decision. You were still sleep. What had happen at the pool had taken most of you. You looked peaceful. I touch your lips. Give you one last kiss. I cannot let you come. Let you become nothing. No, this is not life. You have to live and go on. You are what I lost. That life that was not stolen, but taken completely from me. You are what I lost. That life that I lost a long time ago. To let you become like me, I cannot. So I let you go. I will be alone. I accept it. This solitary, aimless life. There will be no one like you. I will not find anyone like you. You are what I lost, what I regain, what I will not get back again. That life that I lost.
