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I wonder what happened to us?
Why you couldn't just give him a chance...
Why you pushed him away and didn't even give it a try...
You gave all these other guys a chance but him, He's the only one..
Maybe you cared to much? Maybe you couldn't hurt him...
But maybe he's already hurt... He wants the pain... He wants to go down that road..
He doesn't wanna be alone...
he was lost and thought he was found...
But never gave the chance to prove he is right for you...
All I want is to be happy
Wake up and see smiles all around
The most cheerful beats as the main sound
Watch everyone I care about grow and get old together
Not have a care in the world
Not even act like its a bad thing to fall in love
Where people always dancing and it wouldn't be a bad thing
There's every kind if disco
Everyone is drinking Coca cola
All I want is to be happy
Even when all dead and old
And all my stuff is sold
it makes no sense
how you tousle with my fragile heart.  
you have all these hearts in the palm of your hand yet you always seem to want mine more.  
it makes no sense
how you kiss her goodbye just to kiss me hello, you have her already why do you need me too?
it makes no sense
how you love her but you're in love with me, love isn't like this.
it makes no sense*
how I know exactly what you do,
but I stay, I let you use and take from me knowing how deeply in love with you I am.
 Apr 2014 Marie Christine
Maria
In one month, I have been lucky enough to breathe far from the small town  sometimes hesitate to call home

In Rome, the street lamps were endless and oozed romance like handsome strangers serenading in front of restaurants, and my name bouncing off all those brick walls, even the alleys begged my glance for just a little bit longer

On the nights where the rain beating against the brick walls blended in with our sleepy chaos, I could see myself crumbling into every corner of this country. I could melt into the rain, and ******* did I ever want to.

And I think I left my heart somewhere between the crumble of Pompeii to the rooftops of Sorrento, maybe somewhere on the cobblestone of Orvietto or the puddles of Rome , on the bridges of Florence, between all those hushed conversations, maybe while all held on to each other, honestly at this point I can't say I care to remember.

Now south where it taste like home, and this altitude high swings my hips like nothing else I've ever known, I walk with the rhythm of my family's stories on these very streets, and I like the bit of grown I've only but tasted. And this all too latin warmth could swallow me up if I let it.


And I just might let it.
In the beginning of the miniskirt days

— The End —