If the water freezes into an unknown city…
Who can put her heart on a piece of paper? The whole world is in vain, you start to feel your hair as a rain… The words of vine are infinitive. The summers are all same; you start disperse with the ink of the night… my heart just likes a far and innocent cue… this cue says “…if you adore to love, love from your heart; if it breaks off, let it break off your heart!”. Who can tell from which rivers we are flowing to the sea; from which river to you?.. Look at to the sea, to the horizon line; your face is at the blue color of horizon line and my face stands on that line. I am an arrow coming through you, can I turn back? While I am burning, the candle light grows more. Who can tell that “love” is not being alone?
Every separation is coming together,
Every coming together is a sad separation…
How many poems stand between us? How many cities? Without a lie, there is always poet blood in a poem. That’s why love bleeds with the poems… time had stopped, my heart had stopped when I kissed you. Everything flows from inside to out. My words got lost! I cannot find any word to write…
C E R E N B O G A C 