Please excuse the imperfection, but many things in life are.

Your name is a whisper in my mouth,
but a scream in my head.
Hai un brutta vita.
When love is apart.
The Italian language;
its words so laced and loaded with passion
that it enchants and poisons with every syllable.
One word can enslave the heart or break it.
I spend a lot of time on my own now.
Nothing feels the same here.
I wonder how it is on your half of the world.
We live near airports;
constantly watching people
going to or leaving the ones they love.
It’s a sick feeling but a perfect reminder.
A symbol of hope;
that’s all that separates us.
One plane ride apart.
9 hours, 6 hour time difference.
4 thousand miles apart.
One ocean away.
I’m starting to forget you;
not how you are or how you said my name,
but the little things that used to be so important.
How you dried your hair in the mirror,
how you winked at me over your shoulder,
the way your breath felt on my neck while you slept.
It’s all fading now and I try my best to get lost in your memory.
This is my letter to you
and the place we fell in love.

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