Ekin Ture
I
Every person wants to sit
At the end
In a chair at the edge of a table
Whoever is on the other side
Two people find themselves
On both sides of the same table
To share their deepest voids
They attract
To the shine of porcelain plates
To the smell of dishes and their smoke
Their appetite draws an orbit
Like the frame of a painting
They think that in the same frame
They are painted to the forests cities and humans
By the law of nature
As love decorates the whole table
Within the warm waves
Of a rising and falling chest
Their eyes become hazy
As their feet touch each other
Under the dense table
An anomalous feeling fills their void
Like a cloud
With the new joy of an old discovery
Every person wants to sit
At the end
At the edge of a table.
II
There is always someone
In front of her
As natural as the smoke on a plate
But I want to whisper through her mind
Without an uncertain language:
Whoever is in front of you
I am with you still
Run your fingers over your chair
Do you feel the strong and attractive
Emptiness inside you
Where all of your fingers
Touch to the different parts of a relief
And feel the same thing
Do you feel
Your thoughts that sit in your feelings
Thoughts that are clouds of feelings
Like everything that exists
That roots to absence
Absence that makes it rain
For thousands of being
And I am your absence
Your feet could not touch my feet
I am your absence
That I could never sit in front of you
But never cooled on my table
The plate we made
I am you.