The answers I hear
are never the words you speak.
The answers I hear answers are
poorly dubbed clips of proven cruelties and truth
that only a stranger to my pain could utter,
that only you could utter.
It is the thoughtlessness
with which you try to pronounce hope with ease in front of me,
even when you know the names of all the dead ends and dead smiles
where hope has always led me to.
It is the thoughtlessness with which you try to replace
the glowing shards of sad words from my crown
that I have fallen in love with-
my eternal friends who are as unwanted as me.
My crown and its sharpness are just walls for you
and my claims of love for who I am is just an act.
My dark feelings take up more space
than me or you combined
and yet you like to call me small.
only gives me new shadows to play with
and yet you call me weak.
The color of my eyes and song in my heart
don’t change for your liking
and my love for you doesn’t change.
Yet you call my passions temporary.
While my answers are the ones
that you cannot accept or even see.
My answers exist in a place where I exist
not in a place where you or me would like to be.
I hold onto your hands as much as I try to let go
-that is my answer
Those are the words that you cannot speak.
*i do not like saying last night
because once i only used to speak of it as ‘yesterday night’
until someone told me that it’s wrong, even if it means the same
so last night
i thought how it is something you’d say
“it means the same, but you are wrong”
(based on reality, read too much into lines,
sounds more neutral that it was, maybe not much of reality then)
my heart feels so empty
can’t you love me bit more
while i try to fix myself
i promise you
one day you won’t have to try
but i need you today
i need you to try a bit for me
can you wait a bit for me
you will remain empty till you hold onto yourself only
contrary to your belief
you cannot fill yourself with you
you can only be full of yourself
which might be the case that you fall under
thought i am not professionally trained
to point out the wrong
in people’s heart
but there is so much wrong with you
that i can’t swallow the judgement i have passed on you
i cannot help you grow up
i have a life, i have a dream
i have a need for someone
who can be there for me
without asking such things from me…
and so went our conversation
and obviously you were right
you were right to such an extent
that i would be just making a fool of myself
if i tried to negate the facts
so being the emotional being that i am
i hated you
for being correct, for being so cruel,
for speaking coldly about me,
for letting me know more about-
victim mentality, and emotional manipulation.
and if i cried now, you’d be proving your point.
if i complained, you’d be writing it down as a case study
to support your claims.
and because of my stupid unrealistic love
and my distorted sense of reality
i sat there in front of you
saying “i am sorry”.
you are right
i need to get rid of what i am
to get anywhere in life,
to get over you.
You who took so much space in me
you who created stories in me,
put up grand shows of light and shadows in me
you who spent your nights naming every star,
trying to claim my sky-
at the end,
you were too easy to forget.
Or maybe sitting in this world
where everything is yours,
I find it hard to realize your lacking.
Maybe my heart is no longer here with me
to even want you back.
the ones we sign our valentine cards to,
the ones we tie ourselves to for life
wait for us to die (or some form of death) to become free.
their heart is full of love – only not for us.
they tiptoe at night to bury their crimes
and demand honesty only when it suits
what they have in their mind.
so even when we ask,
“why did you break me like this
when I loved you so?”
they say, “there are no proofs in stories like these,
where everyone claims to be wronged.
there are no daggers, only words,
which are conveniently easy to forget
or edit if enough years pass.
anyway no one remembers that well,
one can always hear things wrong.”
so we go back to sleep,
get fine with living blind.
tell our self it is fine
as long as we are together,
when “together” is not what we want.
In a dull handheld mirror
that had yet to be broken,
I looked at myself
that someone is dying inside me.
I didn’t know how to accept this,
so I solved every question in my math textbook.
I learned to eat more and sleep late.
Stared at my wrist for hours.
Pretended to sleep fearing questions.
Tried a bit of every sin
and waited around to be damned.
I felt a constant urge to break someone
so this world could be little less happier.
But death claimed my heart
before I could do that.
So now I write “love” on your tongue
without knowing what it means.
I had too many magazines of glossy paper
with pictures of places better than where I live.
I always bought the one showing better lives.
(what can I possible do or dream with knowing the worse ones)
I would like to say that I remember each beach I saw,
that I remember the colors I never knew sand could take,
that I remember knowing exactly how my footsteps would look like
for they were already there on that foreign land
waiting for me to claim the prints that no one else could take.
But I do not remember all that.
I remember thinking all that, but not what I saw.
Now any picture that I scroll by in seconds
could replace the place that I wanted to see.
That’s probably why I do not bother
with spending my time on images of cheaper paradise
that I now know I cannot walk into just because they exist.
I am a firm believer of words now.
There is a place I read of
and I create it in my mind
particle by particle.
Every place I read is my creation,
that cannot exist without me.
I have all kinds of better world in my mind
and they feel nothing like the ones
I have stopped dreaming about.
The dust once again comes to life
under your sunlight.
My voice wavers again
not knowing what to say.
Not knowing how to move
in this air once agains feels like
the tomorrows we have lost.
The brokeness of our souls
looks for things to claim.
They dream to become the cracks
in this the wall that we have built for each other’s sake.
And yet we stay like this
not moving, not deciding,
not claiming each other’s affections.
As if we have eternities
to look at each other,
as if we have learned
to love in silence.
The dust that lay on the page
that I left open long ago
is now a page on it’s own,
with a story its own.
I look at it and read
negligence and loneliness.
I read how things are forgotten
and how things are treated as things
by people who
live their life accumulating things
and rest half of it
replacing and forgetting them.
How people are treated on similar lines
How we come back to claim our possessions
when they can clearly exist better
I am sipping my 27th cup of coffee
waiting for the shop to get crowded,
so people will not eye me with suspicion or pity.
So I can be in company of people
who have nowhere to go, like me.
For whom, home is just a place you run away from.
I wait for the sun to set.
I wait for the sounds of your approaching footsteps.
I see you make your way
to the table behind me.
I don’t have to look, to know it’s you.
I know you much more than I should.
We have lived together for too long.
And you wouldn’t know me
even if you saw my face.
You have only known yourself,
your world knows nothing but you.
And slowly the seats around you
are filled one by one.
And empty chairs
are being drawn and dragged around you.
And with these strangers
I hear my stories from
your mouth that seem like
the only warmth in their life.
I hear every word you say,
I hear it everyday
waiting at this shop.
To hear, if you ever came to miss me.
Ever said my name with a melancholy
of losing something precious.
If in the stories you tell,
if you could still see me.
If for a moment I could hear you utter word “love”
with my name in its periphery.
I do not love you.
I’m not here to claim you back.
Not here to prove my eternal undying love.
I am just waiting in this cold
that when I sold you my life,
when you used up my story
what you did with me?
Am I there in that heart?
Or at the bottom of some frozen lake?
I need to start looking for it.
And I don’t know where to start.
As her gaze was fixed somewhere
I can never be.
And her cruel words made
every sweet memory bitter.
Her words full of hatred for me,
but her action full of love.
As her smile never reached her eyes
and her heartbeat I could never find.
I looked at her
trying to find the one who loved me once
only to find someone chained to me by fate.
Who claims to love me
but never does.
I am her mirror,
Her love fed my love
and her anger fueled mine.
I shrink back to my own shattered shell
away from her accusing eyes,
away from her cold touch.
Not for revenge,
but to hurt myself before she could.
Maybe one day she would look at me
And try to find the one who loved her once
but end up with what I feel now.
Claim over someone, but not their love.