Allora, mi ragazza, Allora

I miss this place like one who misses an old, adolescent flame. Badly, nauseously, achingly, increased (desired) desperation when no chance of reuniting is in sight or really a possibility, throwing fits and tears, whining, obsessively smelling the perfume of someone next to you because it reminds you of her or him or then, listening to Celine Dion because she sings about dead lovers and hearts going on over and over again and again.

AH!

Someone take me to Firenze, Italia I miss her so bad.

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One response to “Allora, mi ragazza, Allora

  1. Pingback: Sometimes God listens. | DearHeatherMarie

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