Stop crying, my love.

Years and years, fighting. Trying so hard to get through every day, every hour, every minute.

Lost in a huge battlefield where every step you made, it made your life tremble.

You learn how to play. You know the difference between soil and sand, between a dream and reality.

Until you don't know it anymore.

Yes, you're always gonna be careful with every step but, you're confident about your troops. Team.

Friends.

I've seen them fall, I saw you falling. I ran.

I held you, held you so tight. I held on you the way you were holding to life.

Love.

Unavoidable, as magnificet as seeing how the battlefield became smaller, as we left memories behind, as whenever we turned back, we were brought back to reality. To us. To then.

As time went by, the enemies were forgotten, the battles won, the fight was over but, we were soldiers. We are soldiers.

Grew up in a battlefield, how could you teach someone to stop fighting?

It's instinct and It means survival.

How can you tell someone to stop surviving?

To me, it had to be the right person.

You had to come up to me, holding me in your arms, by then, I was sure I knew love, I was sure you'd never tell me a lie.

You told me my armour was useless and, as I watched you walk away, I knew you were right.

My fight was over.

Maybe it was about time to look for new frontiers. Look beyond. Dream of tomorrow.

Dreaming wasn't was hard as making a dream come true. Looking beyond, you taught me well.

But you never told me about looking back.

Until you were gone.

Until I was way too far to even see you. Until I was too confused to even know where to walk.

Stranded. Alone. Heartbroken.