When I look at certain photos,

when I look today

some selfies,

photo with her

I don’t try anymore

that feeling of tremendous love,

of fixation,

now I feel alone

a little pity.

Tenderness,

for me,

that I was so happy.

For you,

that you will never understand

convinced that in the world,

are all willing to hurt you,

maybe thinking that

it is better not to have ties

to avoid suffering.

… If only it were that simple.

But then what does it matter,

what ever mattered

what did i think?

Basically me

For you

I am nobody.

Poetry of a dead time.

.

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