Non c'è

Palermo, Sicily

Non c’è una risposta.

Non c’è niente da dire.

-

My heart aches.

I lean in, to the heart; break.

Deeper.

I can’t write a poem, called “why don’t you want me”

I can write ten thousand poems called “why don’t you want me”

I want to scream out to the universe “why”

I can’t tell my friends how you embarrassed me

Well, I can

and they tell me how no good you are for me.

So why do I want you?

That’s the question.

That’s the question I need to scream out, shout

Take away what is not meant for me

but there, you still are

On my mind

-

Maybe in ten minutes I’ll regret this

(I doubt it)

Maybe I need to keep this as a memory