Fall in love with love with me?

Why would you do it alone anyway?

You are trapped into your own image, your own persona. It is comfortable, isn't it? To have a role built on you, the one role you know you can perform, the one role no-one questions.

You are trapped into an entanglement of things you thought you wanted, things you chose, commitments, jobs, performances of a lifetime. You think you are in control, you should be, so why do you feel like you are suffocating?

Why wouldn't you fall in love with love with me?
That would give you another role, you know, a secret role maybe? Would you breathe a little better?

You are sweating it out, you don't know how this is going to end, you don't know how you are going to get out of that mess, because the mess is inside your head. You cannot get out of your head. You cannot get me out of your head. You live in guilt and fear that the walls of your mind might somehow become transparent. And what if she sees all your doubts and fears and problems?

I feel you. And I want you to give it a chance, to me. Give me a chance, my dear. Fall in love with love with me again, do you remember how to do it? Do you want me to show you? Do you need me to write it on that piece of paper that wraps a chocolate bite, so you can believe it?

Comments

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...

Just Maybe Forse Ciao

Search This Blog