“torn”

a mother’s and a grandmother’s love on one hand,
romantic love on the other . . .
uncertain is my remaining time
just like every breathing soul
nevertheless, i am nearby yet far away
yearning for them day by day

neglecting my little family
i am not whole, for i am not wholly there
neglecting my beloved
i am not whole, for i am not wholly there

torn in-between

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 2.4.2020

 

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Filed under Poetry, Reflections

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