Floating.

It might be just the fatigue,

He talks to me, it's not his voice but some other's, then I ask myself why am I talking to this voice on this subject,
I can not figure out the characters, I mix up the touch of soft kisses and finger tips, I am making love to him breathing through someone else's skin, watched by some other. I mix up the way they all called me, honey, dear, sunshine, lady, and, my name.

I can not tell who was supposed to call, who didn't , who called, and also the pain, I can not tell who caused me the most, who caused me the worst, I can relate the pain to the people no more, some tore here, some tore there, some stayed forever, but who were they?

Then, the places; looks like the time is just faster, leaving me behind, the lady asked "and to where is your final flight?", and I just could not reply, was it Frankfurt the transit or Amsterdam, I don't know the country no long', it was just his eyes, his voice, his arms,

"This too shall pass", they all say, "To what another pain?" I cerebrate.