This is not meant to be a poem.

Never delete what you were. Even though it doesn't reflect your current being. You must be proud of what you were because it got you until now and it prepared you. It gave you the tools. It WAS you and hence it IS still you.

Never be ashamed of the love you felt and gave. Instead. Grow in love and grow the love.

And if things did not go the best possible way. Well. What even is the best possible way? Things went the only way possible. You learn from what happens and live the way you think is best for you. Maybe learning from mistakes too.

There are no true immortal beings, but immortal are the feelings we feel and the ideas that we bring to others. This is because ideas and feelings will move through generations as long as someone is willing to talk about them. Share them. Write them. And speak about them with other people.

This is magic.

I guess that's all.

Non é l'istruzione
Non sono gli oggetti
A fare un uomo,
Se stesso.

É come vive l'ora,
Cosa fa con gli altri;
Ció che condivide;
L'intenzione con cui lo fa,
La voglia;

La personalitá, il mistero,
la magia, la forza...

Di amare ogni istante

It begins

With fiery jokes about Canada  
And your hair, blazing, untamed

Is it maybe your stunning mind
I am simmering, 180 degrees

Perhaps it is the cookies we bake,  
The stories we share,
the laughter we shape
With such SERIOUS faces

I could look at you for hours.
Your beauty defies all word
But it's not even that —

Your charm and confidence  —
you wear them like a crown
—I know it must hurt

It could be your ambition
That I truly love so much

This burning sensation is so strange
I know you won't like this, but
This love, like wine, leaves me  
soaked, spinning, dizzy

I am just not used to this—
I've never wanted anybody to feel so good in life
But it is what I want for you

I feel so free,

You are too —

You know the moon is free falling too

We chose to be caught,
Swirling in this vortex,
With our crystalline eyes
Closed, or open—

innocence,
violence.

I remember clearly,
A flirt. A touch. A kiss.
I flew with my mind,
I loved it wet—

but you couldn’t love it then,
you couldn't even hate it,
you hate it now, looking back

We found ourselves
Spinning in the spiral
Of something we chose—
It was our own will,
Unbreakable by anyone,

though it had happened before:
you were torn apart like paper.

and now you are here,
gluing with gold the shattered pieces

Of the beautiful being you are,
Of the beautiful thing you swear to be,
Of the beautiful child you see,
When you look into the mirror
With your eyes wide open.

‎    ‎        At
some        point,
             I
  felt           time
           just
                i
                c
                k
      ­          i
                n
                g

Come nebbia,
Nebbia sparsa

Che divien acqua,
Poi torrente,
E poi per sempre

E forte e rapida e turbolenta
Cui vien la vita, la gioia, i colori

Il nostro scopo é
Ma non era niente