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Loneliness is not always filled with people...

"My loneliness is filled with people," Kafka states.

Loneliness once:
Night times - the worst, amid winter darkness
days end in haste, day-ends prolong like childhood's gummy sweets
in the hands of street vendors, unkempt, unwashed
lips not even touching the mom-water cup,
yet, devouring in full trust those stretchy rainbow-colored sugar treats

loneliness now:
Filled with sounds of indecipherable joy

two person bed in the morning, two person bed at night
quiet at night time but witness to a commotion at dawn
The family of birds, greeting each new day, in non-stop frenzy
housed in my bedroom's right corner window crevice,
frantic back and forth wing-clapping
fighting off intruders.
How many birds were victims to slings of childhood's neighborhood boys,
wood and ribbon killers of baby aviators
on their way to flying classes

loneliness now:
Filled with sounds of indecipherable joy

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © The copyright of all stories, poems, non-fictional essays and any and all uncategorized writings under the user name "hopeful4" belongs to hülya yılmaz.

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