every night
at one o'clock
While the church bell rings on Sunday morning,
from a far city
a woman would come
with her fantasies.
Sometimes it's a half faciebat, sometimes it's the morning. She didn't come last night.
Every novel, every poem begins with a love story.
I went to a distant city,
for the first time
Kayıt Tarihi : 28.9.2024 12:51:00
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