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Then you left. We would mothball your winter clothes together. I promised I wouldn't forget your eyes Like a green undershirt on a string, I would take it and iron it. I would teach your eyes to say good evening to everyone. Then you left. I became a child again, I cried. How many poems, how many times they were flooded. Books, love, everything. I couldn't save everything one last time. I wish I were born from a menthol cloud like mint candy Then you left. A white mold grew in the house, like snow falling in reverse. I wish the world was covered in granulated sugar. I became a child then I cried, even the rain blamed me. I said promise, I promised. The place where I buried my soul is still clear. I missed the sun, then you I wish I were a basil content with its shadow. Then you left Your eyes are a green undershirt on a forgotten balcony The string was an imitation of rain It's gotten thinner now. Didem Madak