MALEEPA — Считай до ста

I learned to stay silent before you learned to come back. The city remembered the route: yard, crossroads, doorways. I kept looking for you; you kept changing your place. While the city counts the steps — try to find me.

Count to a hundred. I won’t come — don’t leave a light in the window for me. I’ll vanish tonight, and you won’t remember me. Count to a hundred. Close your eyes, let everything turn unfamiliar. You can’t look for me anymore — I won’t return to what was.

You’ll call in the quiet when the storefronts go dark. You’ll ask, “Where are you?” — as if we missed it all. I won’t answer, not angry — the roles just ran out. You were a habit of searching; I was a habit of coming back without will. While the city counts the steps — try to find me.

Count to a hundred. I won’t come — don’t leave a light in the window for me. I’ll vanish tonight, and you won’t remember me. Count to a hundred. Close your eyes, let everything turn unfamiliar. You can’t look for me anymore — I won’t return to what was.

Between “stay” and “wait” we lost each other. You were always afraid of love; I kept walking in circles. Count to a hundred. I won’t come — don’t leave a light in the window for me. I’ll vanish tonight, and you won’t remember me.