She wanted me to write,
Write down my feelings,
My behavior.
Appreciated my difference from the others,
As I appreciated hers.
I am falling.
Falling for so long,
I cannot talk to her anymore,
Cannot write with her,
Philosoph with her,
I cannot even crie.
Because my heart tells me,
Life ends at some point.
Not this young,
But it does.
And I cannot carry on,
But I’ll have to.
Martha Chiara 