Author: Daniela Amodeo


It was never

It was never you — It was never your arms — Or the smell of your hands When driving felt like drifting through a storm. It was never your mouth — When I said...

mashroom-1 0


For those times, today long gone and flattened by the weight of time, like contours of the earth seen from a high-flying plane, still had varying depths then, to the eye of memory; the...


Brighton Pier

All we are left to play with Is some sadness And a few neat addictions To fears Walks And compulsive reads. Then also staring at the open sea Learning how to squeeze Some wisdom...