Have you lost my number?
Or forgotten where I live?
Maybe you're in a coma, dreaming.
Dreaming about you and me.
I bet the post office lost all the letters and that your cellphone is broken.
Or you are kept as a prisoner and fighting to reach me somehow.
Maybe you miss me so much that you just don't dare and don't know what to say.
But you were never afraid and you always knew what to say.
You know my number by heart and the post office rarely lose letters.
Neither were you held as a prisoner.
You just found were you belong.
And I'm standing here with nothing at all.
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