Two Crushed Hearts And Accidently Stepped On Cups

by Melis Ozturk

We each had a red cup
of cold beer in our hands.
I don't remember how many times
we got them refilled,
Do you?
But I do remember making quick,
underage love in my bed and
when we were done, you saw
neatly pinned pictures of
sex icons lined up
in alphabetical order and,
Playboy magazines stacked with
blonde women and their bodies
looking ten times better than yours.
I didn't say it out loud to your face but,
it slipped out with accident,
slurred.
(I may have had too much.)
You said, "Fuck you"
and walked out.
(You might've given me the finger too.)
"Aw, Fuck."
Waking up with a hangover,
I see the red cups that
were in our hands last night,
(crushed accidently on the floor.)

A Growing Suicide

by Melis Ozturk

decide to kill your own skin
shells of bones
a scratched cross
between your breasts
cannot keep you safe
light cannot get inside you
you are too full of
dark tones
darker undertones
they strike pitch black
unscrubbed
filthy like a rat's belly
you are full of
blurry dreams
dreams with a flat ring
echoless tunes
hold hands with
children who cannot smile
a flower couldn’t grow
in your stomach
if it tried
I promised to take care of you
it would’ve been my pleasure
yet you
bleakly opposed

Crazy Bird

by Melis Ozturk

owl eyes
without chestnut feathers
stooped on your body
describing you is difficult

banana bright hair
scent clear as moons
hands hold a book of poems
occasionally lifting
sips of honey-stirred tea
or beer,
I don’t know which

you sit every Thursday morning
same spot
numerous times sleeping
with the book on your lap
drink spilling as
you lie on grass

stars crinkled above
those owl eyes of yours open
and your lips move
like a silent film
you are awake
I wonder
if you dream poems

I tried describing you to someone
but it’s too difficult it’s almost
as if I were talking about a crazy bird