IMPRINTED

I feel everything as if it were empty. 
Nothing around. I fumble in the deep darkness. 
Just a light. 
Just a thrill in the air, 
your eyes looking at my soul.
I have nothing, but I have You,
therefore I have everything.
All around vibrates in the ether only one thing, you.
Like constant beating of wings that your heart remembers.
A vibration. 
A thrill. 
Contact with silky skin.
An emotion that revives.
Mild. 
Intense. 
Fiery. 
Passionate.
A kiss resting on smooth skin. 
Eyes that like windows open onto an enchanted world.
A world that is your soul ....
Waking up, opening your eyes to each other. 
A hug of looks. 
A smile and the morning opens ...
Here is a new day. 
Here I look forward to seeing myself still in your eyes.
I need to hold you tight. Dip your face in your hair. 
Smell your perfume, suck you inside me.
A heart drowning in murky waters of sadness.
He gasps, desperately looking for the air of your smile ....
Narrow is the heart. 
I darken the soul. 
Then here it is your smile and it lights up in the morning.
A light breeze brings your perfume so that my nostrils can be filled with it. 
Breeze that is like your caress.
The face of the sky is now day, 
greets those who have a place already reserved in their hearts.
A place imprinted in the heart, 
carved into the soul.

IN THE MORNING

I had had to get up early that morning, a little earlier than when I went to school. I had taken the subway direction Jonio and I had gotten off more or less at the level of the tram station.

I had stopped on the sidewalk so that it divided the street in two halves and while I waited for the tram to arrive I had started to think, to elaborate and to compose, in my mind, the poem that could best describe that moment.

It was seven o'clock and the sun had not yet fully risen; its rays touched the skin of my face and arms, brushed me like a caress, like petals of pink, yellow, and orange flowers; the morning breeze made itself felt, gave a lonely breeze, fresh and soft at the same time.

I was, therefore, in the middle of the road, but perhaps it is more correct to say that I was at the center of an antithesis operated by time.

The feet were a little cold, while the hands, kept in the pockets of the jacket, were too warm and I felt that if, at any moment I took them out, I might find that they were melted like candles in the fire.

After a few moments, perhaps a few minutes, perhaps half an hour, it seemed to me that I could hear the sound of the mechanisms that are located above the trams that run on the great wires that are placed for the operation of the trolleybuses; and at the same time the perpetual and fast and repetitive sound of the contact between the rails and the noises of the tram.

I looked around, it seemed that I was the only one listening to it, maybe the others just heard it, they just didn't care, everyone cared for himself alone: ​​who was on the phone, who listened to music and who chatted animatedly with the person that stood beside him.

Nobody seemed to notice the wonder that was happening.
he sound was getting louder, until I could see the tram: it was making the curve.

Then, for a moment, a gust of wind produced by the cutting of the air of the vehicle, and then a light whistle.

He had stopped: the doors had opened in front of me and practically immediately I moved and placed, first one, then the other, my feet on the plastic that covered the floor of the wagon, a little loose and a little sticky. Then I looked for a free seat on the tram, and as soon as I found one on the back I sat down.

I put my arm on the window and with my hand I moved the hair that the wind had blown up in front of my eyes. Here it is, the wonder.

From the window I could make out the buildings opposite, of that color between cold beige and yellow, but which were warmed by the warm rays of the sun, which gave those ancient buildings an orange hue.

They were like satellites that glow with reflected light.

From where I was observing that scene, I could also see below the tracks on which he was traveling, the electric wires above; around pines and other magnificent buildings of the same color as those described above.

It looked like one of those perfect landscapes for an analog.

There I found peace.

 

MORNING SHADOWS

Shadows behind my back,
they give human thrills of presence that I took my breath away. They all crowd to get my attention
and in the meantime they swallow my words.
Greedy,
marauders,
they play as if they were killer dolls.
They look for my pulsations,
vibrations,
lively feelings to make them crowns of thorns.
I open dull books and they immediately come out as actors from a distant past.
They want to sigh again,
whisper secret things to me,
make me forget the morning sun.
You swing big through the light,
but in the dark you disappear.
Follow every movement unable to resist,
silent and dark.
If you had the opportunity, how many things would you say? Muta, do your job,
accompanying me everywhere.
You are part of me even if elusive,
I have you but I don’t possess you.
I see you but you cannot do the same,
I would like to tell you many things but your ears would not perceive the sound of my voice.
Sometimes people can become shadows too,
you know?
People are afraid of the night. He is afraid of the dark. They believe that nothing can be seen in the dark. “Dark is dangerous: you never know what it can hide,” they say. But they don’t know that the darkness actually hides nothing. In the night the masks fall, the shadows vanish and only what it really is remains. I am afraid of the day, of the light. Because it makes you believe that you are safe, but you are surrounded by shadows, by masks worn out of fear, by repressed feelings, by hidden pains. How much strength does it take to look at the truth when it is not hiding?
We need light and its emanation, without it we do not exist, the shadows, even if so dark, prolong and outline the hidden part of being. Know how to choose your sun, so that your shadow is the brightest part of you. When the sky is gray the world becomes gray and you in it too. Yet, once you pass the clouds, you find yourself in the hidden world that you did not see from the window, you find yourself in front of an infinite white and soft ocean that acts as a separé from the real world. And thinking about this, you begin to look among those few glimpses that allow you to see beyond the clouds and, imagine flying, flying and flying, going higher and higher, beyond the roofs of the houses, above the lights of the city, and beyond above the clouds, and then begin to caress that hidden sky, which until the gray ocean appeared above your head, you didn’t even realize existed.

BEING STRONG

One morning you wake up and just at the exact moment that fraction of a second just before setting your foot on the ground you understand what you really want, what are you willing to put up with and what not, what or who are you willing to put aside because the thing is to One way street… And everything that crushed you until the night before, made you sick becomes the past. Important and non-erasable part of your life, but past. Something you don’t want to hear anymore. There is a greater awareness of who we are and what we want. The road ahead will be long and often difficult, but having chosen ourselves for once and not others will make us feel better. People will never stop judging every step you take, without wondering why you are doing it, or for the person you are inside, they can only see what they want to see without really looking at you. You may be the coldest person on this planet, but do you really want to hide behind a mask to look strong? Is it really so important to show yourself for what you are not? Do you really think you are that strong? We all have weaknesses, fears, insecurities, but we are never alone. Someone tried to reach out to you to help you, why didn’t you take it? You think you can handle everything by yourself don’t you? But is not so. Nobody is alone in this world, you have to get help from someone, you can’t carry all the problems on your shoulders, friends, family, a point of reference, it helps not to keep all the load on your shoulders, let someone take a little ‘weight off your shoulders, you will feel lighter. For me, being strong is like an armor that over time, through mistakes and experiences, you learn to fortify. Being strong is also understanding, for example when a situation repeats itself several times, you learn to manage it and not feel bad about it, when people disappoint you several times, you learn to know how to behave should it happen again, without spending too much time cursing you. I do not consider myself a totally strong person, we all have moments when weakness makes us fall .. you are never completely strong, emotions are too strong feelings to make you feel “invincible”. I don’t always feel strong, it also depends on the topic, but I try.

%d bloggers like this: