Those who leave

reminds the sea

not only the foaming waves

are my loneliness

as the pain proliferates

my eyes

plunges into the ocean

the other half of my heart

the wind caressing my skin

smells like you

fuming head

and the skirts are bereaved

the mountains of mine

my hands are tight to my pockets

how many poems have I knitted in darkness

and how many longings I have raised

for separation?

Not from LOVE!





©Günsel Djemal Elüstün 13.08.2012