Oi va voi!

I’ll ask you one of these days, when we’ll have something to talk about. I might even cry, I might even let that part of my soul free, which you drew in, the way my mother used to draw the curtains when she was sewing. I’ll write a novel about our stories, I might even publish them. Stories that never even happened, only in my head, only in your head, simulating a relationship, hallucinating reality. We never shared a caleidoscope, but the stars were the same. The stars, the pebbles and the two stains on my white shirt. One of these days something, someone will let it hurt. That, which had forgotten to hurt before. Words will be as simple as they can get and sadness will be as clean as it can get: to love is to be a fool. I’ll admit that only the anger was real, the hate wasn’t. Everything I know about the world, I learnt from you. Pretty depressing stuff, buta t least it’s true. You can’t even lie for beauty. You can only lie for the truth. One of these days we’ll be standing in front of each other, we’ll be the same height, I’ll nod my head in agreement with the truth and after that we can never see each other again, after that, in all my mistaken life …. amen.