Your fragrance, your touch, your voice and your gaze… I’m familiar with all of these but I still can’t get used to the idea of you being away from me…

Believe me… Without you… Istanbul doesn’t have a Bosphorus, it can’t swallow the bitterness of our longing…

Every time you leave… you steal nothing but the memory dusts of the places we’ve been to and the possibility of the air around us being intertwined as we breathe.

Do other people count days? Is it something only detached lovers do?

When you’re away, everything is bland. No flowers, no letters, no hellos.

Every song, every melody I love… But my heart beats with a rhythm only sung by you.

Happiness, love and what not… But how many more reasons do you need to stay?



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