Her Confession

I am a woman who needs a lot of assurance
whom you have to repeatedly say she makes you happy to quiten all the doubts inside her
who cries when she hears a sad story about another woman struggling
who worries about someone she just met
who hungers for stories of different people
who thinks you are not well when you are being quiet
or that you have started living life not hearing anything from her because her inquisitiveness irritates you.

Like dandelion seeds, you can easily blow me away.

I am a woman who can’t get rid of her emotions
and wears them like it’s the only thing that keeps her warm and real.

And how I hope this woman’s tears wouldn’t scare you
nor make you think how childish her worries are
and I hope you do not get tired of reminding her how she makes you feel – happy.

The Sound of Home

You know it’s crazy because back home where I lived most of my life, I couldn’t have a long span of silence. There are always brother’s roosters which crow early in the morning and more often than not, they cluck and cluck until evening. We live beside the road so the honking and speeding cars, the shouting passerby and emergency sirens are alternately heard in our place. There are moments when big trucks would make the ground quake like the stones that made up the house have shifted. And just when you thought the dawn would give you reprieve, the dogs would bark like they are mocking your desperate need for a moment of silence.

I want to remember every flaw…

But now that I am here in a country where the weather could be so treacherous but where there is peace inside the house; when all the sounds you hear are from the coffee maker, washing machine, boiler and maybe phones – all of which you can turn off at will – I realized I kind of miss the sounds back home.