what everyone expects,
love knocked on my door again,
for the same Italian love.

we were two teenagers,
with caresses,
giving each other love.

the resentment and suffering,
from past lives,
stayed in bed.

nights of lust and desire,
killed evils,
and healed wounds.

but there was a villain,
a ticket to Copenhagen.

everything spiritual and magnetic,
vanished into thin air,
when we saw that our futures,
were not the same.

where all the love,
the energy that emanated,
had an expiration date.

no matter how much we wanted to hold on,
no matter how much we didn't want to let go.

and no matter how much love we had,
habit and passion,
were going to hurt us.

I will never forget that goodbye,
that eternal embrace,
that melancholy.