Poem-
Amore is patient
Amore is kind
Amore is psycho
Plays with your mind.
I still need you
And te need me too.
Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa.
My fault, my grievous fault.
When you're hurt
da my hand
It's Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa.
To Amore is to destroy.
It's a contradiction.
When I've tried my hardest to keep te safe
Shield te from the world outside
I try to kill those who breathe on you
I feel apathy.
You're warmth on my skin
Chills me within, I push te away
I run away from you, my fears of losing you
Overcome my Amore for you
Cut myself, dreams of te deteriorating slowly kill me
Driving me insane
te ask of my issues
I don't let te know for it may hurt te too.
So as we kiss, I slice the skin on my arm with my bistecca knife.
I bleed and bleed, staining the white shag rug. Scarlet.
te scream and scream until I whisper my last words, 'I Amore you, but it killed me.'
And I wake up in cold yet hot sweat, pain easing up my arm. I look down, and see the scarlet invitation to a death parade.
I send te a goodbye text. Telling te to come visit me in the morning,
I walk slowly but steadily into the cucina and pull out the coltello from my dream.
Cutting the skin on my chest, 'You+Me= 
Till I see blood. Walk back to my room
Take my last breath and l slowly die.