Just Maybe Forse Ciao

The Cheshire Smile Let go of all the things you know you should do let go of all the duties, the serious consequences  of what you once  committed to. You don't have to keep wanting something or enduring something just because you used to once. You can be happy, you know? By conciliating consequences, duties and dreams. I know consequences weigh you down. And you deserve to be with someone that makes your heart race and not because of habit, fear or blackmail but because of evolution  of feelings evolution of yourself, from the inside, kicking. You can kick, emotionally, it's all right. Let go of all the things you are bound to do you will do them in time, with time and patience you can do it all. And some of it requires tough choices difficult times, but you can do it nevertheless. If you let something go and you allow the dreams in what would you dream of? Don't wound your heart by imposing rules and pressures you do not need. Happiness t...

Devotion hurts. Cause the heart chooses to be devoted when devotion was promised and not delivered. My heart at least. The more devotion is missing, the more the heart is devoted. Could I simply walk away from this? Can I simply stop? Can I be who I am, that dominant person everyone sees but him, can I be that person on demand once again, tomorrow? Can I walk away from a sick game of self destruction and self indignation? The woman I am, put on trial by love, she lost, I lost the attitude that attracts and the same that hinders progression in love. I should be who I was to become who I want to be tomorrow. And I lost it, cause of devotion to the submissive self of the man I had the curse of falling in love with. The Dominant woman I used to be, that woman that has allured him and others in a scenario of lust and mistery, does she exist at all, or is it just an illusion to trigger the lust of every man? Devotion will not save me. It will not be a substitute for that d...

...and then you look at yourself in the mirror, you try to understand why you are struggling so much, to do something to impress him, to impress yourself, to make yourself feel worthwhile, to make yourself feel better, to make him see you differently. You look at the mirror and all you see is yourself giving 100 when around you he gives 10. Why, you wonder, why are you giving 100? Is it for him, or for yourself instead, is it to fill in your emotional void, that void no-one else can fill but him, if that is true at all. Or maybe you just need to do that, to carry on giving 100 in spite of the fact that what you receive back is simply a mere nodding to whatever you say that doesn't sound so quirky. You look at yourself in the mirror and you realise you are scared of your own image, of the same things you claimed you wanted, of the same strength you claim to have. He, with all his free spirit, his necessity to break ties, to shun away vulnerabilities, to architect a grand entran...

There you have, in the middle of nowhere, you and me...and our everywhere. I am building a bridge of words to shape trust, romance and a future that will never exist. A bridge of words million of words for him who cannot understand my language. A disappointed hope for a disguised feeling illegal, illicit, sick and obsessed. And I look at myself from outside, standing at the edge of this bridge, risking to fall in the abyss he is. And I stare at the other hand of the bridge of words, how many other right words will I need to reach out the other side where he is working, deaf to my prayers for a life made sweet one day by someone who can't be me. And the bridge tells stories about a love which dares not speak its name, too unsure, too unsafe to be released about a night of feverish sex to try and contact the primitive emotions we are made of, about a heart who shuts the belief out and a heart who welcomes that belief way too much. I...

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...

Checking the phone every 5 minutes at first, then every hour, then pretending not to check it, then checking it once every 3-4 hours. You expect a call that day after day you don't even remember why he should call in the first place, why, when he already said he wouldn't. You try and remember what he said last time...no no no..wait..the content of the last message, maybe you missed out something, maybe he meant more than what he said. And then realising you are just fooling yourself, because you know he meant just what he meant and there is nothing you can add that was really possibly inside his mind. Nothing at all, you are not in his mind. You try to tell yourself it's over and to believe you can move on. And you can, why not, you just don't want to really, why would you, wrapped up in that future with him you will never get to live. And you are hurt as you didn't even know you could be right now, not after your heart went in pieces in Amsterdam, not again. And th...

One possibility in a million is not enough anymore. I wanted to chase it, I wanted to chase you but sure without casting my jealous heart into a stone nothing can be done, really, right? And I won't be able to please myself with that possibility in a million that you will be looking this way one day. Even though you are, you have been, one in a million. Not when this distance you impose destroys every heart-shaped desire I might have of you. I don't trust you, no, I don't. I think every woman is bound to love you and I think you will sleep with each and everyone of them just because you can. No, I don't trust that possibility in a million that is all I can beg - not even ask, beg -for. When all your pictures show places I don't know, moments I have not lived and persons I have not met, when I realise that I will never know your moves, your emotions, your tears while dripping yourself in the snow, this winter. And those blonde ones, th...

I don't even know how much time I spent in the shower, with the water getting colder and me, sitting in the bath, crying those tears I had been bottling up for weeks. Those words never said resounded in my mind. It was over, I had known it for weeks. So why now? why now the tears? Thinking that deep down I wished I had never met him, how bad is that? I wished I had never let myself fall this way, I wish I had been more careful, I wish I had recognised the signs. And then cursing the fate for that night, too much alchol and too much hope in that foreign land. And I cannot be less, you see, I cannot be less than that, I cannot love less, want you less, suffer less. I wish I could be that carefree person you want me to be. And him, before you. And tell me, are you afraid? Afraid of me? Do you hate me? Do you even see me? How can I show you who I am, who we can be, if you don't let me? But remember me, you will remember me, when you'll feel alone and no-one will be there to...

Feeling like the trash put away out of the door. As if I was not good enough to be let in, as if I could never be first choice, as if I was garbage, something which can be put aside and be dealt with later. Feeling like the last thought on someone's mind, non attractive, not appreciated, nothing at all, as if my existence or disappearance wouldn't make any difference. And feeling taken for granted, just one in the million, just another burden, a nuisance because after all I don't matter, I never mattered. I was just a passtime of a stupid eventless summer, and I will always be the one to go, the one never missed, the one never called back, the one begging for attentions I will never have. Because no-one really cares if I am hurt, cause I am strong, oh so strong you are Anna, aren't you? I will get over this, as usual, I am independent and will move on, I will find someone to have sex with as soon as I want, cause that is all I can always have an...

When you lose the possibility to live someone the way you would want to live him, it feels like an invisible hand has pierced your stomach, penetrated your soul and taken away everything that used to weight you down. But, you feel empty and not light for some reason, and all you can think of is how many possibilities he trashed that you still try to recollect, not to lose them all, cause they were all beautiful, oh so beautiful. Sometimes, it happens that you just want to curl up and stay there near, silent, close to him, who doesn't deserve any of these tears, who doesn't care if you are there at all, who doesn't even remember who you are, who can celebrate when you leave, cause you are a nuisance, a ball on a chain, a pain and he doesn't like you anymore, he never really liked you. And you can't help it, just want to stay there next to him. You just want to be with him, who dreams of other women, other bodies, sexual as you are not anymore for...

You don’t know my Calabria and even I don’t know it very well. That land, where in autumn the vegetation becomes a thousand shades of orange and red and it swallow you in the folds and in the wounds of its mountains. You don’t know my land, that I disown every day, because it is too difficult to manage, and still greets me with a breathtaking sea and those colours in the fall that you say they remind you of Pennsylvania. And driving without encountering a single car, cutting roads, deserted, remember, it seems another world. Through the Sila, we reach the lake, if you wish, and not knowing how long it takes, let’s just drive listening to old Italian songs. You know I miss you I miss you already now that you're here beside me. Every minute is too short to be able to live you with dignity. And look at me after having made love, look me in the eyes. Do not drive me away like an annoying fly. Like this land, you're damn charming, and impossible to love. Impenetrable, as if I...

'I have never been beautiful', said the monster, while looking at herself in the mirror, being afraid to break it with a glance. And indeed the new mirror bounced back at her an ever worse image of herself, she was surprised, she couldn't believe it, when did she become so ugly, undesirable, insightly and frightful? All she wanted was to be closer to that mirror, she simply wanted to be enough for him, beautiful enough to look at herself there, without risking to break everything into pieces. And she isn't. She isn't. She is just drunk for all those words that she repeats over and over to herself, just a script that means nothing to him. He doesn't like her at all, he loathe her, he cannot stand her. Yes, it's harsh, but he really cannot do anything but reject her, she is a monster, she is so ugly, repulsive, undeserving. And she feels like crying, her heart suffocated in her breasts, she cannot talk, she cannot move, complete...

London  Stanstead always looks so gloomy early in the morning. Of all the journeys I have done in the past years, Of all the arrivals of all the departures, Stanstead still keeps the great majority of them And of my wild, scattered, unusual, bouncing emotions. And today, travelling to face again the illusions of the summer, Recollecting that lake and that love so quickly consumed, Much before being understood.   And remembering the sneaking around, The smiles across the lift and the corridors, The nights swallowing the lake and its lights, The days reinventing that image of me Through butterflies in the stomach And the excitement of something fresh Which was asking nothing of me yet. And today, months have passed, And my heart feels old and tired, once again. I will wait for the illusion to make its appearance At the train station today, While still holding memories Of a past long gone, when my prince arrived and I was kissing him, In London Stanstead that time. An...

Waking up too early, or too late, and realising the other side of the bed is not as cold as usual, looking to find someone just to find the shadow of a presence. Rushing out of bed, because we are nothing but sex and it would be weird to indulge more in intimacy, unwanted legacy of a night together, meaningless, after all. And looking at yourself in the mirror, the morning after, with the marks of sex from last night still very visible on your face, you look at yourself and you think that you don't really know what you are doing, You have no-one to ask for something else, certainly not him who drinks coffee in the lounge, and you don't know what to ask yourself - You wanted to feel better Anna, you just wanted to avoid thinking and spend the night being someone careless, so what's wrong now? Now that that careless you has gone, you have dismissed your lingerie, now that all you can think of is something or someone that you can't have. Post co...

One week only to meet again your tricky fate, one week only to deal with last week pain and make room for other pain, once again. There was a lake, a summer lake, and a stupid stupid girl on the shore. England was far, and so was her past. He was reading Miller and she was lying over him. There is another lake, a winter lake, grey and cold, her eyes see things that are only in her head and his lips are only one kiss away but never too close. Saudades by those lakes, because she knows sex too well, and yet love is not allowed. Saudades, because she cannot fall in love with him who read Miller and with him whose lips are only one kiss away. And she knows how to make a man subject to her sexual appetite, she knows how to kill and create desire, and indeed she knows that perhaps both of them prefer someone who knows sex less well someone who is a princess, someone who cannot compromise to friendships, friendships with benefits, relations without a future, li...

Run, Boy, Run. Don't look back at me, Run without letting me see that you are running. Be sleazy, hide, don't say a word. Avoid my questions, avoid the answers, avoid the look, avoid any touching, avoid any eye contact, avoid any casual meeting, avoid speaking to me because I am hysterical. And if you can, ignore that I am still behind you, ignore that I tried to access your veins, your blood, your pulsing soul. Act like if I weren't there. And don't be afraid I might find out and chase you, don't be afraid, I'll try not to. Also, ignore that you can still see me there with the corner of your eyes, do not pay attention to me incredulous because of your behaviour. Ignore me and Run Away, My Boy, do run away from me. Like everyone else, after all, why would you be the difference? Why, if not because I thought you were different. Did I scare you? Did I talk too laud? Or maybe, I am not pretty enough, not interesting enough? Did I bore yo...

Should I just let it fade away, Or should I work to get closer? And can emotions be about work anyway? Are we investing to get closer, Or are we simply waiting for whatever-it-is-that-we-have to wither? A rainy afternoon. Yes, a rainy afternoon, Curled up in the blanket, too tired not to sleep every half an hour. And wondering, if it is too late already,  Wondering... If what you left behind is that much more attractive than me here, If you just let us wither without me knowing,  If you just found it easier than talking to me directly. If I bored you at some point and how did I do that... If it is really true that not having a strategy and behaving spontaneously is a turn off. Or if you couldn't deal with me at all. If I should just walk away in silence forgetting you,  or if I should roar and make myself heard because I want you to want me. Wondering... what did I do wrong this time,  If it is true that if you don't 'feel' me now, you will never will. ...

I need for you to chase me, I need, when I slam the door to run away from you, that you open that door and run after me. I need you to follow me, to trust me. I need you to show me that I am important, that you care more than I can see. I need you to be a prince for once, I need you to lie to me and tell me I am a princess. I don't want to rescue myself this time, I need you to do it. Please do it, this one time only. And it doesn't really matter we have things to sort out, everyone is scared to make choices, everyone has his own past to deal with. The older we grow, the more it becomes difficult to liaise past and present and future, don't you know that? We are no exceptions if not for being true, as a lot of people fail to be. Why don't you miss me? Why don't you just chase after me? Why are you ok in losing me, in letting me go? Why don't you care enough, enough to call me back by your side? Why are you so silent? Why can't you ...

I think I am tired of explaining people what they think because they live their life without questioning. I think I am tired of filling empty mouths, of feeding disturbing silences. I think I am tired of wasting words, lost in the air, in the hope that 10% of what I say reaches someone's heart. I think I am tired of apologising for caring too much, for reasoning too much, for saying thoughts aloud, my thoughts, their thoughts, every thought. I think I am tired of pulling out potentials, of believing in those potentials being the only believer around. I think I am tired of believing when others do not even care. I think I am tired of being the only one worried to waste things, occasions, potentials, connections. I think I am tired of investing without receiving anything back, without even knowing if they are listening to me at all. I think I want you to be as you are. I think I want you to tell me about all the stars in your head. I think I want you to know that ...