Rome

If you ever go to Rome, just tell her how much I miss her.

Tell her I miss her ochre walls as if they were the tanned back of a man.

Tell her I miss walking in her narrow alleys as if I were slipping my fingers on the spine of my lover.

Tell her I miss the soft swing of her leaves and its colors enlivened by the sun in a summer afternoon.

Tell her  I miss her statues made of still beauty and the shadows they cast among my footsteps.

Tell her I miss the accent coming from her lips.

Tell her I miss swallowing her taste.

Tell her I miss her men and the soft laugh coming from their mouths.

Tell her I miss the dim lights flickering on her nights.

Tell her I miss the river that runs on her body.  

Please, just tell her how much I miss her sunsets. 

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