Quiero Decirte

When passion fades, but the things in the apartment still smell like “us,” the air becomes heavier than concrete. It seems as if even the cup on the shelf knows that it wasn't all for nothing - just silly, too human. There are no loud confessions here, only a stubborn “I'm sorry” to the beat, which seems to be knocking on a closed door.

In every chorus, there is that “what if it's still possible” that is both painful and sweet at the same time. Love here is not perfect: with mistakes, pauses, unnecessary words. But maybe that's where its real music lies - when two hearts, tired of pride, still seek each other on repeat.