You are in the void of rebellion that opens inside me when I miss the bus coming to you.
You are hidden in my gaze of a helpless child,
ashamed that the dinner I prepared as a surprise for you has burned.
You are in the Picasso accident that a word on the tip of my tongue, unable to reach you, creates in my mind like a boomerang.
You are in the game of hide and seek inside a red glass of wine I reached for in your absence.
Not in a photograph of yours, or in the things you say, but in the answer to existence I caught merely in your stance, you are.
Stop getting lost in every nook and corner now,
stay in my soul, indifferent to the address of your being,
so that
the callused answers that don’t even have a question may finally run out,
and in me,
let me be your willing drunkard in your screams.
written by Aşur Horoz
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