Streets of London

And how can you tell me that you're lonely,
Or say that for you the sun won't shine?
Let me take you by the hand,
And lead you through the streets of London;
I will show you something to make you change your mind.

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Let me be your Muse

Breathing is just a rhythm. Let me help you create the music. Let me be your Muse, the one lightening you. Living is not believing. Let me help you believe in something more. Let me be the one driving your pen, kindling your inner language, pulling it all out. Let me speak your language, let me teach you my language. Do trust me, do let me enter. Do talk to me, as if I was a song to be written, Please, please, let me light your sun, the sun you are suffocating inside your dark soul. Let me be your Muse, that is all I've ever needed, all I've ever wanted. To be your Muse. Play my music, act my script, please, listen to my words, recite them, recite them all, but not as if they were cold and heartless, do take them in you, make them yours. Let them inspire you. Let my words inflame you. Let me inspire and inflame you. Don't ask me to be one among the others, Do not oblige me to remain silent and to hide who I am. Do not ask normality of me, Dare an...

Because He is the One

They say that when you meet the One you feel it, deep inside of you, something tingles. You try to suffocate it because there is no way you can be right, after all the times you have been wrong. And certainly he is not the One. He can't be, he will try to escape, from you, from commitment, from intimacy, from proximity. They say that there is a moment, in everyone's life, when you know that you need to fight. And fight harder for a love, or something really similar to love, that is slipping away, that is not blossoming as it should. What happens, when do you know when is the right time to start fighting? Perhaps when do you feel that he is the One? Or when is it that you let it go instead and accept that it is over? They say that the more you grow up the more you learn to know what you like and what you will never like. They say that at some point you are bound to find people who seems to be the right ones and are not, just because of the circumstances. So...

Millennium Bridge

Mid Afternoon, with the Millennium Bridge embraced by such a weird sun, too powerful to be London, too bright. One never gets to appreciate how big is the bridge until one sees the people walking down it. Stories passing by. So humble. And suddenly I remember that night when I called him because some romantic musician was playing 'Let it be' on the bridge. And those lights...oh those lights on the Millennium bridge that night. In my eyes. Trapped in my heart. And I remember how he was touched by this gesture. One of my usual silly romantic gestures. I sit on some stone stairs which lead directly to the water of the Thames. Directly in the river. Dirty waters but smelling of summer, today, kissed by the sun, moved by the implacable wind. I stare at a couple sitting a bit before me. She is fat, he is bold., they kiss and they seem in love. They share the food. They probably found that compromise which allows every man and woman in love to accept the beloved one without getting ne...

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