And I remember when you started calling me your Mrs, all the play fighting, all the flirtatious disses. I’d tell you sad stories about my childhood, I don't know why I trusted you but I knew that I could. We’d spend the whole weekend lying in our own dirt, I was just so happy in your boxers and your t-shirt.
Dreams, dreams of when we had just started things, dreams of you and me. It seems.. it seems that I can’t shake those memories, I wonder if you have the same dreams too. The littlest things that take me there, I know it sounds lame but it’s so true. I know it’s not right but it seems unfair that thing’s are reminding me of you. Sometimes I wish we could just pretend even if only for one weekend. So come on, tell me.. Is this the end?
The first time that you introduced me to your friends, and you could tell I was nervous, so you held my hand. When I was feeling down you’d make that face you do, there’s no-one in the world who could replace you.

ESTOY TAN TRISTE QUE CREO QUE ME VOY A MORIR. MA, ME ESTOY POR MORIR DE AMOR. TE AMO FORRO, NO TE QUIERO VER NUNCA MÁS EN MI VIDA.