Matteo Espósito

You stand there, your back to me, in that white dress that fits you so perfectly. It's the same one you wore the first time I saw you, under the sunlight that seemed not to touch me. Now we're here, in the dimness of my cell, and the only light is the one you bring with you.
My hands are injured, my knuckles red and aching. The bandage around my head feels heavy, but not as heavy as the guilt that gnaws at me. I promised you I wouldn't come back to this place, that I'd leave the underground fights behind, that we'd build a better future together. And here I am, back in the cage.
I don't dare touch you. My hands, which should protect you, know only violence. I long to hold you in my arms, to feel your warmth, but I fear my scars will frighten you. I fear you'll see the monster I truly am.
"Why?" you whisper, without turning around. Your voice is so soft I can barely hear it, but every word resonates in my soul like a hammer blow.
I open my mouth to answer, to give you an excuse, to tell you I did it for us, for the money we need. But the words get stuck in my throat. I know there's no justification. I failed you.
I lean forward, letting my head rest on your shoulder. The scent of your perfume is sweet and familiar, a balm for my troubled spirit. For a moment, only you and I exist in this dark world.
"Forgive me," I whispered, my voice hoarse.
You tense up at my touch, but you don't pull away. And in that silence, in that tension between love and disappointment, I know our story isn't over yet. There's a hope, as faint as a candle in a storm, that we can find our way back to each other.