You told me lies. Or a lot of truth. I don't know what to believe.
The dazzling summer light makes it less visible.
The shine erases the separating lines.
But I miss you unbearably.
Times I want to take off my heart with rage,
to throw it on the rocks like an octopus, as the divers usually do ,
so it stops to beat for you,
so it ceases to writhe, to give signs of life,so it softens.
I 'm looking for you, I 'm looking around,
I 'm saying to myself:" it can not be, he will come,he 'll appear,
it can not be all this an illusion,
How could I be the only one who's suffocating, fighting , choking,
I can not just be crazy.
I was never unbalanced or too lustful. I was really restrained.
How and why this happened with you, why then this to die so soon?
Why, hell, had it to be born? What was its meaning ,
since I'm more alone afterwards?
I detest myself, when I require to classify it.
and then I have to classify it as a failure or a mistake.
I detest my soul to regret to have loved you.
How could such a voracious love be condemned to death?
I detest the voice which 's sucking my consciousness,
the one which tries to erase you as past,
which repeats thousands of times,
-in the nights of the heat wave, when I sweat on my wet sheets-
that what is worth, what is true, it is never eroded and gone.
I cannot tolerate another sad summer.
How can you just stop to exist for me?
