This text has been automatically translated from Turkish. Show Original
You were like an empty book, my darling, that I bought only by being deceived by its cover.
You were like a grave body that I watched, my darling, your tongue was an idol and without virtue.
You were someone who lived in possibility, my love, only in probability.
You were like a butterfly and a bee, my darling, you were like a cactus with a short lifespan and a needle.
You were like the destruction team of my pen, my darling, and the words I couldn't name.
You were like a mailbox my darling, expected, kept waiting, never coming and always empty inside!
You, my darling, were like our wounds that opened over time, that do not form a scab, that itch and do not heal, that bleed again, again, again, and do not allow healing.
You were like a letter, my darling. When you opened the envelope, you were like a lost land that destroyed, burned, burned consciousness.
You were like an endless ocean, my darling, deep, dark, dangerous, scary and forbidden to swim in, you were like feeling, love and death.
You, my darling, were like the rainy story of a poetry book with a hand full of disappointments, dejected, fit for madness, and you, my darling; You were never written, never read, you were always lived among the sadness that accumulated without knowing yourself.