Platonic Love

Hear. I’m calling you in silence,

don’t you feel my cry?

Nights and days have passed and

my heart has been looking back

for all the time.


It’s blind and sad now: it

feels betrayed and hurt and

it’s holding its pieces together, not

to fall into the bitterness

of apathy.

The mind suffers for its

painful friend and it lives

in a daydream.


I find some peace there, under

that imponent, bloomy tree:

I’d stand still, a silent wind

caressing the long hair away.

My eyes looking tenderly into yours:

two mirrors that shine of a same light.


We wouldn’t dare to step forward

at once, but you’d finally be won

by that most innocent desire. As

if two more ancient voices were

calling each other in a disperate

agony, we’d get closer and closer.

The memory of reality

would stop us at first, but

that place,

it’s most far and hidden.


You’ll be just in front

of me and, after a little

while, you’ll take

my hand into yours.


I love you,

I love you.


Hear me,

hear my weak cry.

You should know all that.