A Poem by Little Birdie

But I only heard your whisper through Lauretta's aria: "...if I had loved you in vain..."

Would it change the course of history
if it were me instead of her?
Would the words have stung you less?

My bare feet sting me
when I walk backwards through
bright yellow hallways
but I would do it
if I could count
less scars in your eyes.

I don't know what to write for you
when you don't read my poems anymore.

I dreamed about us yesterday,
how beside Castello Estense
we sat upon high walls and watched
colourful fish
swim peacefully below while
heaven's tears dripped all over us
through blinding sun.

On Palazzo dei Diamanti
in the tight passageway of my heart
the city's Philharmonic Orchestra played
all of my prettiest wishes
but I only heard your whisper
through Lauretta's aria:
"...e se l'amassi indarno..."

And from the bell tower of the Cathedral
the songbirds sung in unison
while in the souvenir shop
we observed the maps
of all the places
we'll never visit together.

Every summer, Via Belvedere
ignites my lungs like bitter coal
behind Teatro Communale where
a grandiose audience
(a single blooming rose bush and me)
observed you
perform your life's work.

A pair in love told us that
Verona is only
an hour's drive away
and you, light as a breeze,
caught my arm and said that
if we stopped time
we could take the long road of life
by foot.

I want you to know
that I woke up with open wounds
where your lips should have been
under the sunny sky atop the hill and
until the noon of the very next day
I bled out the rest of the time we shared
and the time that
slipped through our fingers.

© 2015 Little Birdie

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register


my heart breaks, reading words like these

beautiful if tragic poetry

Posted 6 Years Ago

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


1 Review
Added on April 30, 2015
Last Updated on April 30, 2015
Tags: lost, love, unhappy, missing, Italy, saudade


Little Birdie
Little Birdie

Rijeka, Croatia

I'm a weird little bird, and sometimes, I write. more..

gs gs

A Poem by Little Birdie