I wait for the day that your memory doesn’t haunt me, that I don’t ache with love that should be yours. I wait for the day that the bricks of these Italian streets don’t make me think of you, that my heartbeat doesn’t quicken at every man that I think for a fraction of a second is you. I wait for the day that you leave my mind the exact same way you entered it, swift and smooth, so I can feel at peace for the first time in so many days. I wait, and I wait.