You

You...are not here and yet my small room is filled to the top with you. Your sighs are sticking on the walls like most beautiful wall paper. You...are not warming up my chilled feet every evening and yet my bed is covered with most passionate folds your body leaves when you turn "It is always YOU o'clock..." even if all known watches disgracefully lie it is NOT... and you are not hugging me in the morning. You...don not wake me up with the traces of your breath on my back and yet my day does not see the dawn without you...amaro senza te. You...you dance like a tiny sparkle in every sun ray. You...are infinite and overwhelming like the fields in Toscana. You...are fragrant like the lavender under sunset skies. The Love is breathing in your hair.

Love. The marks of your love leave bitter almond taste around. A sweet bite that drifts away with the tide, to define one’s passion…for life. Bitter without you.

To have...You for one to talk with, a man, a friend, a lover...by my side is outstanding and marvelous...and most of them we know would like to have such thing...and there is the other side of all this where my thoughts and wishes are bold...You...recognize all of them, indulge yourself to them...You accompany them and participate in each of them. You...perform them and do not feel ashamed of your wishes and thoughts and it is so difficult to put all of them to the proper description...and yet there is a single word for them: Potency.

Your body that you are offering to me so willingly. The story I have with...You, our words...the sound of it is here