by Âlâ Tevfik

Dearest,

“One can only kiss your lips in silence” I thought to myself while typing roughly.

In days like this, I stand, barefoot, in my balcony, not desiring you laying next to me on the grass.

I listen to Thelenious Monk, I picture my books falling, but they never reach the ground, and for moments, I only wish to speak of my imaginations.

— Lala Tevfik

Advertisements