Loneliness

Loneliness,
walks across the rooms
drawing its finger on the dust on objects,
writing your name.

I love broken mirrors
They show me as I really am

I sat down in front of myself
and as much as I wanted
I cried.

Life was us!

Death was not a bad thing
when life was swelling under our skin.

Instead of going to the moon
We should have discovered something better;
For instance life,
to be able to throw out the old clothes from time to time
and purchase new ones.

We just discovered more insects,
new diseases;
We changed the shape of death.

Life was not something to be over at the weekend
and arrive at Monday morning.

Life was us
who gambled over our skin, flesh, and bones.

Living in extra time

Living in extra time
with a mouth that tastes like death
and a thousand poems
which are withered inside your voice.
This is the sequel of being born
in the Fall.

I am walking in the street
with my left hand
every house that I open its door
is a dresser with the smell of old clothes.

I cannot forget my nightmares
And this herpes on the corner of my lips
will not fudge.
Nobody embraces me
I have left my red dress back at home.
When I touch my hair
no more memories are reviewed
and my hand lines
have left me no way.
From the day I was born
I had started to die.

At the farewell time
tell mothers
to come
sew sequins on my white shirt.

Elahe Fayazi was born in Mashhad, Iran (September 21st 1987). Her BA was in the field of Script Writing at Culture & Art University of Mashhad. She is fluent in the Turkish language and has translated many works of Turkish writers such as: Nazim Hikmet, Orhan Veli, Ozdemir Asaf &İlhan Berk.