to crave atention as much as I,

is to suffer without knowing why,

in the midst of december, i am alone.

with my hand on my phone,

sweet dreams, child that still lingers,

friends? i count with with three fingers.

i am empty,

not as much as the space,

or the gap that keeps us distant,

i am empty,

a little bit like the sky during summer,

and, perhaps, like an abandoned shell.

i will suffer,

but i will not beg.

the atention that i crave so much,

comes from the solitude i've dealt with all my life.

tonight, it is okay to cry,

tonight. just tonight...