We both were late to the date because of rush traffic hours of Izmir.
I was the first one to reach the meeting point.
Wandering around and staring at people were only option at the time.
There were so many girls and couples in the street.
Everybody was passing through to reach somewhere, maybe to a date.
There were a few songsters on the street,
Some of them playing guitar while other one playing clarinet.
The beggers and little ******* were the terror source,
Beside the brochure dealers in Kibris Sehitleri.
Mobile life of the city was infront on me.
I was the observer, I was the flaneur among them.
Suddenly, I heard a voice calling me behind me.
My cutest friend ever, the source of joy was right there.
She was there to give me a huge hug to cheer me up.
A nice hug which was destined to warm my heart up.
I intended to be dull and silent at the beginning.
Until I drunk the beer and unlocked my mouth.
My depressive nature was the source of discomfort.
I know I have so many things to confront.
My best audience and my ******* talkative mouth.
My words were very complex,
They were sounding as if had been destined to be provoker.
My thoughts ruined my former thoughts.
I did not mean to give her a headache.
I intended to explain other me within me.
The complex dreams and emotions beside undefined thoughts,
They were trying to make me insane.
I was like a locked box in other locked boxes.
Sometimes my words were as pure as water,
Sometimes confusing as much as alcohol is.
Emotions were crystal clear but words not.
My stories and problems ruined the harmony,
But she was willing to listen to me as always.
As I told her, I intended not to say the truth.
The truth which slowly tears me, my heart.
Real meaning of hypocrisy I had written her in my poem,
It was just in front of her.
But she was not looking from the right side,
Like I refused to change perspective.
The nightmares I see every night,
Idea of losing her and her friendship.
And next to them there was my selfishness.
But it is suppressed by my cowardice.
The worst fear is to lose her suddenly, very early.
