With his cold shoulder
melting into mine,
with his metal teeth and lips
soldered to the my mortal butter paper skin,
I trade his heavy existence
with my slowing heart.
He becomes a little more human, little more weak.
as I become a little less cold, little less teary eyed.
We both become a little bit of everything –
a mess of feelings and colors sitting out in cold storms
pretending to dig for ancient meaning on each other’s skin,
pretending to be furnaces and burning lighthouses.
I dreamt of Galip’s dream,
He dreamt of sitting by a blue haired girl on a bus.
I dreamt of what he saw.
He looks at her sitting alone by the window.
He doesn’t wonder why her hair is blue.
He doesn’t ask why is she so beautiful.
He doesn’t wonder why she she alone,
at midnight boarding empty buses.
He sits and looks at her.
And imagines the people who see her everyday.
He looks at her eyes that look at
everything in the world as if she owns it.
That looked at everyone as if they are hers.
He wonders do these people know how fortunate they are
to be at receiving end of her smile.
He knows (as I know) why
she caught his eye.
She looks exactly as she is.
She is something he could never be.
Something I could never be.
Galip and me, both are caught in the storm of her being
And we forget what we are.
And it is bliss.