Just Maybe Forse Ciao

The alternative version of a memory,  Correcting the past  At the Western End of the Silk Way. His voice Forgotten and yet so familiar, His blue eyes And the wrinkles of three years gone by, We used to be so close you and I. How deep was my heart when I loved you, How deep was your heart when you loved me. The way we used to touch,  The way we could be the better version of ourselves  For our love. Images of his white skin The way sex made him tremble. His joyful games,  His nervous smile Behind which he can hide His curiosities His silent weaknesses still so clear to me. Unspoken truths and  His empty feelings That could hurt me as well as him. At the Western End of the Silk Road There he looks at me,  Speaking through lyrics as usual,  Awakening memories Of the first time I let myself go completely For love, The first time we made love The first time we lost equilibrium and we enjoyed it. We used to be so close you and I. And we used to believe ...

I am my usual self confident, cheerful, dominant. A smile half of my face, my eyes half of my sight. And suddenly an image of beauty returns, at the back of my memory, where dust settles in. The Beauty that remains, of him, yes, and also the one before him, the one that never goes away. Cause when you look at someone and you found him simply just beautiful that is all the love you need. That is amore ,  the a for without and mors for death.  Without death. Something that never dies, never fades, like the memory of Beauty. And it was beautiful to think of us and it is still beautiful to remember you and beautiful was my love,  both times, and beautiful you did look to me. But reality ruins beauty and reminds you that it doesn't matter if you see it when no-one else can when Beauty cannot see itself and cannot say a word anymore. There is just a meaningless lullaby still singing still mumbling in my ears ...

In an instant in the instinct,  and yet distant and distinct. I need for something to happen. I don't know who to ask, who to beg. When I realise how insignificant I have been in the life of someone for whom I wanted to be everything but insignificant. I want to rip away this feeling from my mind, from my heart. The constant loop of memories of his fake ingenuity of his words none of them meant anything true, anything at all. And I will see him  in an instant, in the instinct,  and yet distant and distinct and I will see again his indifference that forgetfulness in his eyes, in his hands, in his words. And I thought he was pretending to have erased me. And I know now, and it's crystal clear, and it's as raw as flesh  that there is no pretending here that he could have tried to keep me alive he could have found a role for me and he did not. He did forget me I do not mean a thing, I have the sa...