I know.

You want to touch me now,

but you can't.

Your hands are tied,

like mine,

but behind,

one hundred days of stress,

one hundred days of hatred,

one hundred days of indifference,

one hundred days of coldness,

one hundred days of mockery,

one hundred days of loneliness,

one hundred days of anger,

one hundred days without closeness,

one hundred days of emtiness,

one hundred days of communication difficulties.

And you and I feel the same,

the same as you do.

My hands got stuck there,

behind,

behind that wall,

the wall of a thousand days and nights.

So my love,  I know.

I'm not anymore?