hülyaswritings

i saw you the other day
perhaps it was a dream

either way . . .

you appeared before me

and i

cried

again

There is a sacredness in tears.
They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.
They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues.
They are the messengers of overwhelming grief,
Of deep contrition,
And of unspeakable love.

since you happen to be here . . .

i want you to imagine a woman
vulnerable at a declining age
married once for long
familiar thus with intercourse
yet still a virgin
when you had entered her essence

for
she
let
only
you
make love
to her soul
to the core

should you ever doubt it
send your reason to her address . . .
living proofs do not lie

you had made her believe all along
you too were a virgin with her alone

that is how untouched she was

her once ascending spirit
in a downward-spiral now
races to self-destruction
this late in her remaining time

you have after all never taught her
how she could thicken her skin like yours
before you abandoned her fragility
abruptly harshly ungently
to its debilitating agony

did you recognize her . . .

does she visit your nightmares . . .

i saw you the other day
perhaps it was a dream

either way . . .

you appeared before me

and i

cried

again

© hülya n. yılmaz, 5.27.2016

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The italicized text originates from Washington Irving.