Duruyor Mu Yerinde

There are nights that seem to freeze between “I still love you” and “it's too late.” Everything is quiet then: even thoughts tiptoe around so as not to wake what is long gone. The air is thick, like smoke after the last cigarette, and it seems as if memory itself is sitting opposite you - in your shirt, with your scent, with that same stubborn gaze.

And even though the excuses are long gone, and conversations with the past have become awkward, these stories still live inside - unspoken, unloved, unresolved. Fate, like an ink stain, has left a slight shadow on the face of what was once called “us.” And no new chapter will begin until this line stops hurting.