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Pop Love

For all that I did and said about you
kilometres of forgiveness wouldn’t be enough,
I start the journey and wait for you.
 
That then, let’s talk clearly, I, without your eyes
am a poor Christ who’s looking for his cross.
I wish I could exchange them with mine.
 
I miss you that I almost hate you
and then I hate that I almost miss you
but, in the meantime, I miss you
and today perhaps even a bit more.
 
And I’ll find that I need you
while I’m already looking for you for a while,
we’ll be like two lovers in a movie
that, regardless, ends well.
 
I smell the scent of your words,
they taste of oranges and southern sea.
We, who do not go for pop love,
that doesn’t let us be well.
 
For all that I feel, that I think about you
a literature per month wouldn’t be enough
but, in the meantime, I’m starting to write, to write.
 
Because, let’s face it, without your mouth,
I’m empty and feel almost useless
like the “r” in a Marlboro.
 
I miss you that I almost hate you
and then I hate that I almost miss you
but, in the meantime, I miss you
and today perhaps even a bit more
 
I’ll hang our gazes in the Louvre
so that someone will steal them
and then we’ll find them in a bar
sitting at a table.
 
I smell the scent of your words,
they taste of oranges and southern sea.
We, who do not go for pop love,
that doesn’t let us be well,
that doesn’t let us be.
 
We are like dust in the darkness
that, if you don’t see it, it nevertheless is there.
 
And I’ll find that I need you
while I’m already looking for you for a while.
We, who do not go for pop love,
that doesn’t let us be well,
that doesn’t let us be well,
that doesn’t let us be well,
that doesn’t let us be.