Pleasure and Pain

Stepping out from bathroom after a hot shower, she asks widening her brown eyes at me “why does your writing have always a hint of sadness?” as she makes a half-hearted attempt to cover her naked body in bathrobe. “Why is it struggle and pain that seeps out even when we are happy?” Her impromptu…

Static

It is 2 am, drenched in whisky and loneliness I sit at the rooftop. Fragments of our past pass through me, shattering the interior at molecular level. I feel like a satellite that got hit by a parade of solar-dust particles and cannot help but consume the impact and spin in frenzy circles as the…

Loner

Outside my living room’s wall-size window, there is a flock of pigeons, gathered on a telephone wire. They are cooing in broken chorus, like an endless chattering of immature, careless teenagers about their Instagram profiles. There is no pattern, no synchronization. Every pigeon has its own song, its own rhythm. I’m no expert but I…

Bad Timing

I saw you struggling making your way through the day as if you were put on a planet where being beautiful and nice was like plague, and expecting love in return that you carried in your own heart was the most sinister thing to do. Neatly dressed and walking around elegantly, carrying out a battle…

Plastic Queen

A queen of unread poetry scribbled within the white spaces of old newspapers. She collected plastic from garbage and tiny pieces of discarded pencils. Her bright eyes turned yellow, reading anything she could under kerosene-lit lamp. A fire burning inside her heart wasn’t enough to light-up her home between roads. She barely got enough sleep….