A wide black silhouette,

standing up in front of our small 

and nostalgic house,

talking to people, 

the familiar faces

a small darkness

juxtaposing with the brightness of the sun

 

fading

but at least,

a sign of existence

 

When the sun rises,

I see her back

not in the back of my mind

I really see her

 

I don’t know whether I love that meal due to its taste

or just because she cooks it 

but I ask her to cook my favorite dish

while trying to hide under her shadow

trying to fit in

 

I do try to cover my arms around her body

I do try.

or maybe, I don’t,

maybe I used to. 

 

she

doesn’t have a shadow now

she lost it,

a loss that will never be recovered again

like a wound that turns into a scar,

a loss, whose pain will always be remembered 

 

she lost it like that, 

like the way I lost her.

 

If I had a chance to give her mine,

I wouldn’t even think about it

Not even a little bit

not even at all

 

I can think of her smell

And the feeling of hugging her,

the cozyness she gives to me

Her laugh, 

her voice when she is angry to me

or the brightness of her eyes when she is happy

 

But one morning when I woke up

She was gone,

At a moment when I was breathing

She was not

Even without leaving her shadow back,

She was gone. 

 

Now when I go to that house which is

fully filled with my fragrant childhood memories

I know that I will never see her again

Or hear her voice

And see her smile

I know

 

And the worst part is,

Even though realizing that 

she will be 

gone 

the shadows fading, 

not being able to do anything 

Other than watching her even forgetting 

Me, my own

and hugging her again 

Smelling her smell, reminding me of flowers

and not knowing that it is my last hug 

when I hugged her the last

 

not even being aware that 

I say her goodbye 

For the last time

but, forever 

this time.

 

I am really scared of forgetting

forgetting her face,

her voice,

her smell 

and the  warmth of hugging her

 

forgetting to know that she is there, 

supporting, believing and loving me

regardless of

my appearance,

my success, 

my personality

or anything else

 

And I am the most scared of

eating that meal again 

after her,

this time 

instead of her sincerity,

by just tasting the emptiness

and instead of loving,

by just hating it. 

Hating everything that reminds me of her.