La Dolce Vita.

I taste the sharp tang of aperol spritz

whenever I see

the colour orange

feel my body uncurl in

a lazy Sunday afternoon


the fruit slice was always chunky

the prosecco as light as

that Summer salad you can’t get enough of

second helpings

third helpings

you know the score


all architecture

falters in comparison to Brunelleschi’s


the sheer marvel I would cycle past

every day

on the way to work

its shades of pink and green

its story

its history


if only I knew then what I know now

if only I knew how much I would miss you


night time isn’t night time

without the lights dancing across

the Arno

a fairytale

at your very fingertips

a story

that slips its hands into

the spaces of your chest

spaces you didn’t know existed

spaces you didn’t know needed filling


when the cold chill arrives

I wrap myself up

in the memory of Christmas on Piazza della Repubblica

my first month in the city when life took on

a whole new meaning

anything was possible

my world was infinite


and they ask me

why did you leave

why was this not enough?


how can I explain

that a city that set me soul alight

an existence full of




could not fulfill the longing

deep in the pit of my stomach

the what if that told me there was more


now my heart is full of memories and


my anchor deep in the abyss

of the many oceans I’ve passed


tell me

why was it not enough?

will anything ever be enough?


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