I’m nervous to be with you,
Little fireworks dancing in my stomach.

I’m nervous to speak to you,
Afraid that I’ll end up speaking in a different language.

I’m nervous to hear you,
Something so foreign yet so familiar in my dreams.

I’m nervous to smell you,
Will you smell more like the cappucino you swirl in your cup each morning
Or more like the panettone you help your mamma make on Sunday’s?

I’m nervous to look at your eyes,
To see those beautiful chocolate brown occhi stupendi stare right back into mine,
Little do you know I’m swimming them.

I’m nervous to see those perfect lips,
Lips that I would drink in like the red wine I swallowed like a pill,
To try to forget about you.

I’m nervous to see your face,
A face that I would recognize with my hands if I were ever blindfolded.

I’m nervous to touch you,
Even the slightest brush of hands would make my body tingle.

I'm nervous for you,
what will you think of me?

i want to wake up to the sound of an accordion playing on the quiet cobblestone streets and have the heat of the Mediterranean sun kiss my skin as i walk into a local coffee shop and order a chocolate biscotti i want to walk the cobblestone streets of Venice and visit little bakeries and as the night falls i want to sit under an olive tree outside under the moonlight and drink dry red wine with the love of my life

"migliore"
   come fai a sapere se il tuo meglio era abbastanza buono se non fosse abbastanza buono ~Venjencie©                      

(translated from Italian into English below);

                 "Best"
      How do you know if your best is good enough if it was not enough? ~ Venjencie©

#miglioreBestWrittenByMeAbtMeOn04122018AnnaVenjen­cie

The bitter sting of winter's singing howl
Drives me to seek some deep and darkling place
Far from the blizzard's scorn, the wind's embrace,
Far from the beasts who bear its brunt to prowl
In search of prey. I'll clutch close to my cowl
And cloak, beneath which hides a younger face
Than most foresee. The forecast yields no trace
Of hope for safety 'pon the road. No foul,
My fellow traveler, don't fear from me.
I'll lay my knife down well before we meet,
Before we each choke down a share of ***
Or what would pass to warm camaraderie;
I know not where I've passed, to where I've come;
I simply beg a place to warm my feet.

Another dram of "philosophic wine."
For all the tumbler saps my fingers' heat,
Its glass holds little, now. Let me entreat:
I'll recollect the tremble down my spine
And spin my little web with every line
To catch your gaze, to bid you take a seat,
To bide my time until the next we meet,
When next we close, we kiss, we intertwine -
I fear it so. I fear I'll be transfixed,
All stunned and muted, stricken by your touch,
Or worse, the web won't draw a moment's gaze.
It must be offered, though it isn't much -
All love and lusts, desires intermixed -
On this, of all the ****** romantic days.

Ragazzo che dorme
testa sul petto
Drogato.
Da mille sogni
ed aspirazioni:
un cervello affollato,
In cui i pensieri
lo perseguitano
come i cani da caccia.
Di notte.