Every song brings me a little bit of you.
And in some melodies I could swear
I can hear your sweet voice.
It’s like everything has small pieces of you:
the air, the rocks, the trees,
the light, the sea, and the moon.

Slowly I walk on the recently cut grass of the park
tracing that invisible straight line
that would take me the soonest to you.
My hands and my chest ask for you.

I search for you among the leaves,
among the intrepid butterflies,
and among the pages of my books
where I sometimes find you in different forms and races.

You live in my silence.
In those moments of solitude,
I slowly relive the divine taste of your breath
in my mouth;
and while all this happens,
reason invites me to uselessly try
to convince myself that I am not in love with you.

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