Love is not something I find easily. Usually, I'm in an out-of-control haze when I'm around someone I think I love. Eventually, I found out that the road of love goes both ways, and that I've probably never walked it. What I call "Love" is probably more accurately described as an obsessive delusion. Secrets pass, people get close, but in the end, every result is a pitied friendship not even close to love. My answer is to write; it's a stupid answer. On the outside, it may seem romantic, but it's just as useless and as crazy as I am in all things. Sometimes I write in horribly mangled Italian, especially when I can't sleep.
Avere
Uno puoi vedere
questo terrore
in mio cuore chi
è troppo debole
per t’amore lungo
abbastanza adesso
piu puoi vedere
questa solitudine
in mio cuore
è una grande forte
visione dei tuoi
capelli lunghi rossi
il vento mi fara piangere
I miei occhi sanguinarano
per il suoi amore
che no ho
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If Jacob is renamed Israel for Struggles with God, perhaps I should only be whispered for struggles with words.
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