As I watch your silhouette fading away through the airport’s door,
I stumble down on my knees,
I play music, I cry like a baby because you’re not here with me anymore,
and probably you never will be.
An Atlantic distance between the two of us,
I know, it would make it a challenge.
As spring explodes in the shadow of the castle,
I sit alone in the sun you’ve seen,
as a dog barks and old souls hope for a better future.
Though spring is here for me it’s still September,
flowers bloom only on Arthur’s Seat.
People and stories go by,
and I can only think of you, of your sweet smile,
of your accent while speaking,
of the way you move when you show me things,
of your irresistible shyness.
Then a crossroad,
the drunk night of feelings,
and you already plan your next trip.
I see the green meadows in the sunshade,
I see us, holding hands, walking peacefully
creating the seed of infinite.
A dream, an illusion,
while life leads us astray,
and I still can recall your voice,
that fragile moment before it disappears in the flow.
And then I plan, I try to figure out what could I do,
to be that special man, to be the privileged,
who could kiss you under the castle’s hill.
A return to the origin,
the opening of the breach,
a little crack in a huge time armor.
Time won’t set,
time doesn’t change,
time doesn’t heal scars.
I got to this by opening the door,
opening my soul,
feeling a deep storm within.
A cliff made of souls,
waves beating down those black rocks.
I’m trapped into the net,
and I need solid ground, balance.
Your face cheers me on the beach,
a familiar smile,
a voice that I can trust.
A deep inner imbalance melts itself into empathy,
a love never loved,
your face is still clear, after all,
you’re a drawing carved in my skin.
I’m still here remembering the exciting perfume of your skin,
a perfume attached on me.
I was smelling right where you walked by,
waiting impatiently for one, single, little embrace,
observing the littleness of your movements,
figuring out how would have been to get lighted up by such a glimmering shining source of light.
Stories surround me,
I’m surprised by their unattended power,
while I can feel heavy steps breaking the flux up,
a prison that you can watch,
you can watch my words.
Tears in the darkness of my throat,
tears casted in the deep again,
a feeling that I wanted to cry out,
that I wanted to confess to you, leaning on you.
I was staring in your eyes.
My own self, my own inner father has stopped me.
The wall has raised.
I am looking for something, I am looking for an embrace,
but I’m searching for something else,
I want to go further,
I want your arms,
a fence around my wall,
a chink, a fall
an important difference.
Do you feel like loitering far away?
You feel isolate, on the outer side of the events.
But we are on two different sides,
we distance from each other everyday,
we carry on on faraway patterns, with no connections.
Your hope is a dead end,
tears in the rain,
a closure, the growth of the parasite.
I feel an indescribable littleness,
while I watch this screaming paper,
listening the sirens of the bombs on the other side of the sea,
cut off arms, blood flowing.
In violence’s absurd game,
I feel a distance from humanity,
when I watch its incapacity to accept.
What’s the reason of stepping on each other?
What’s the the point to kill another soul?
Why do we have to live in desperation?
Wars that I don’t understand,
stupid, fool human reality,
imperfect destiny’s mistake,
illogical creatures with no consciousness or morality,
grains of cosmic dust,
crumbs in the never-ending blue of sky,
conquerors of plastic goals.
The city pulsates, cruel in its terrific height,
cold like ice, like a blade on the skin.
A machine-gun. Shots.
Other steps, other interruptions.
I just wish to be a decent man,
I just wish to be accepted.