Pardon my english (: It's a bit sad because of the translation; in italian the concepts sound better.
I can feel you. I've shreds (literally, or better "pieces") of you under my skin, in my blood and among fingers of my hands. You're in my head and your voice never stop shouting. You're everything and nothing. I see you on thousands of trains and they're running so fast that my senses can't realised it. You're probably following a love. Or a swallow. You're water, pure and polluted; brocking yourself still, transparent in rainbow like glass, pieces of crystal. More than your words, more than your movements, it's easy to throw ourselves away. Everywhere I can hear talking about you, in clandestine bars and in my stomach. You've the wind against every time when you say my name and you burst out laughing as if it would be snow in august, as cicadas in the mating season. Velvet eyes, I fix you in silence, without making noise, without torturing the heart.