Dear Dear M,,

I know that this letter will never reach you, and that's exactly why i'm writing it.

I always thought falling in love for me would be a process. I used to think that I would meet someone, start talking to them, go on a couple dates and then gradually fall in love. But with you it only took two seconds.
I knew when I saw you for the first time, I was doomed. It's like I just knew, deep down, that we were made for eachother. That my hand would perfectly fit into yours, that you'd be the first to really see me.

And the more I get to know you, the more I think I'm right. I fall in love with you every time my name falls from your lips. I love your eyes, so crisp and green, I love when you smile quietly and laugh loud, I love all the moles on your face, like constellations, I love your nose and the way your curls spill onto your forehead.

But I can't have you. And I hate this, that I can't even think of being ith you because I would betray her, and as much as I love you, fighting with her is not worth it. I just wish you'd never kissed her. Then we could be us, and I'd be finally happy. And then there's him, who'd give me the moon if I should ask, and it's not like I'm not happy, but he's just not you.

I see us, in some other universe. You come home while I'm cooking dinner, you come up behind me, hug me and kiss my neck, then you set the table while we listen and sing to some vintage record. We have a daughter and her name's Clara, and she has your same deep green eyes and freckles and my brown straight hair. We have a son and his name's Samuele, and his hair is as dark and unruly and yours, but his eyes are just like mine, big, blue and full of hope. We eat, we put them to bed, and we stay on the couch and talk until it's too late, so we go out on the balcony and look at the sky. You tell me that the moonlight's pretty only when it's on my skin, and I say that the sun doesn't shine as bright if you're not there.

And that's what we are, sun and moon, perpetually chasing eachother, while never being togheter for too long. We live for our eclipses while we settle for other stars.

Whatever's after death, I hope you wait for me.