Delayed Saleslady
my
hair is darkening to a lengthy loneliness
lava
has touched my lips, you consider as lipstick
i
have propped my heart against the lights of the showcase
my
tenuous dreams are hung on the shelves
there
is a falling star in my night-patterned eyes
all
my wishes drop down to the floor and they are dispersed
my
legs are as cold as my poverty at the bus stops
my
missed youth is trickling through my eyelashes
:
my delayed desires are my dowery
Serkan Engin
Empty Mirror Magazine
November 2013
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