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Don't give me that story,
that exes are wise teachers,
that they bring lessons in their footsteps,
or that pain is just a labyrinth.
In their arms lies the fire,
the spark that made our life a game?
No, in their shadows there are only echoes,
of withered laughter and broken dreams.
You say that because of you I am stronger,
but the weight of your absence hurts me,
not the virtue of a bright past,
but the tear left by a lover.
I don't want lessons from the one who left,
I'm not a pupil, there's no more to say.
That love never dies, it only transforms,
and I'll seek light in another form.