Tuesday, August 11, 2009

the floor is dotted with tears,
my fingers too short to wrap you inside them.
it's sad how the cotton caves of bed covers
separate us. barely three hours into your dreams
you will start hogging the blanket again and
expose me to the world. you used to hide me
from strange devouring eyes.

as my side of the pillow gets wet i think of
the ocean. my toes in the sand. my nose
stuffed with unspoken comebacks and goo.
i can't find the toilet paper.

i feel how your vanilla skin churned inside my thighs
accompanied by explosions of galactic dust in me.
my love is revolting magma. i want to draw my homeland
on your skin with my fingers and find my meaning in connecting
the dots of your imperfections. i love you because when you sleep,
your body becomes warmer than morning coffee.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

The tragic hero

I've traveled lengths of a hundred baseball fields only to find I haven't moved from the spot where you left me. At night, after falling stars hide their faces from my eyes, I like to play blind, as shadows pull shapes.

I am the self-proclaimed ill-fated child who stops northern winds with her bare chest and pounces the world from behind, after it stomps her and starts running away. I am the daughter of many tragedies and the grandchild of a hero.

I miss the shelter you used to embrace me with.

Monday, December 22, 2008


Mend my broken fingertips,
to black and blue they're beaten.
Don't fly away on paper planes,
you are yet to be written.

Penniless in a wealth of words,
All alone in crowded rooms,
Nude I stand before you now
stripped of masks and of costumes.

I will water you with tears -
Bloom on, my answered prayer!
Let your skin settle on me,
I adore its every layer.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

You are missing

you look pretty for no one.
You stretch your fingers to Earth,
but Earth has had its fun.

you hear echoes of voices,
names you thought you knew
soiled with other first name choices.

how dare you birth me
in hollow heights of pale shadows?
From you I free.

I hear
nothing of you.
You cry in cobweb corners
you're your self's overdue.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008


I live in a dedicious tree, modeling the behaviour of robins and plagiarising their melodies. The hills kidnapped my sun. This is why I hide my face from heaven and befriend my shoes. I am here to feed tears to the earth.

One day I will visit your century.

Ab ovo

And after she had seen their eyes meet for the very first time and both glisten intensely, hers because of the heavy lights she was still sensitive to and his because he felt as if he was holding the redemption for all his wrongdoing prior to this event, after she realized her transparent little hand will fit into his perfectly, she noticed it gently tugging on his sharp beard, mottled by occasional gray. Upon seeing these things, she realized that being 49 and in labor for 12 hours was absolutely worth it. Every damn moment of it.

Tuesday, November 18, 2008


Frantically she rummaged through her claustrophobia-inducing-thirty-square-meter flat, searching for a pen, preferably not one of the discarded, worn out ones which lingered around the living room in repeating patterns but a functioning one instead, which she never seemed to have enough of.

She noticed his hair gets slightly frizzy in the humid weather and decided she liked it anyway. He wrote his phone number on the palm of her little hand, blistered but young, while simultaneously taming it from shivering. She hoped he didn`t notice. He found her knowledge of Hesse impressive. Secretly, she hoped he preferred the smell of old books over new ones.

On her way home, she was squeezing her umbrella handle unaware that she was almost completely smearing the small digits straight off. When she arrived at her doorstep and closed the damned thing, the remains of navy blue ink which seemed to be emphasizing every little imperfection on her lifeline merged with a few drops of water, desaturating its hue. She failed to find a pen bold enough to resurrect his handwriting and do it justice.

The door kindly closed itself after her hasty entrance, like they always did. She always kind of figured the foundations must have been done carelessly faulty.