I love the way you comb your hair, the way you light a cigarette. I love to see you move your lips, having no clue what you’ve said. I once stood behind you moving close, in the supermarket queue, I love the smell of your hair, though it might just be shampoo. A voice within me said, “Come on, this is how you feel, for once in your life try to fight for something real”. I’ve always watched you from afar, the way you drink in tiny sips. And I’ve always watched you leave the bar with words that never reached my lips. So if you see me dancing with a girl or two and you notice how much they resemble you, still you can’t hear the voice that screams behind my grin: It cannot wait, it’s not to late, for once in your life try to fight for something you believe in.