13/02/2026
Penso di amarti
When the room is dark,
I lie in bed,
forming to the contour of your body holding mine.
The body you once touched and held
like it was something sacred.
Now I lie awake,
tracing the ghost of your touch
on skin that refuses to forget.
How can skin remember
what it no longer has?
You would press your forehead into mine
like you were trying to read me,
like somewhere in the silence
you would find the parts
I was too afraid to say out loud.
Steel-coloured eyes
imprinted on my brain—
not cold.
They made me warm,
like the world had steadied.
I had fallen
As I looked up at you
and you looked down,
our eyes locked.
You were a cathedral
and I was willing to kneel.
I knew when it happened.
Not in a kiss.
Not in a promise.
But in the quiet realisation—
that I would let you break me
if it meant you stayed.
Penso di amarti.
I started planning a future
with your name resting inside of it.
Said it softly in my head
just to see how it fit.
I wanted my hand
to learn the weight of yours,
the way my heart shifted its rhythm
to match your beat.
I miss opening the door to your face—
that moment before words
even had the chance to leave our mouths,
sealed with a kiss
like the world outside could wait.
Hand on my thigh as you drove.
I never felt safer.
You were becoming the thing I dreamt off.
Now my body still turns
when someone says your name.
I still see your car as I drive,
hoping one day
it will find its way here again.
Maybe I loved the idea of you.
Or the version that could have existed
if timing were kinder.
But what I know is this—
there is a hollow heart inside me now,
and it echoes in Italian.
Penso di amarti.
