Loving a trapeze artist.
Me the flyer, he the catcher...
Someone who made void his home.
Throwing me in the air
Over and over.
Swinging between everything.
Then, he catches me
But right before I fall.
Right before he falls.
Filling me with fear
As I am winnowed, almost scattered;
Inside and outside.
I need reassurance till he catches me back.
Will he? Will he not?
No talk is allowed in this dance.
A dance pushing you to the edges of your thinking
While survival depends on no-thought moves.
Never in the same place is he
Each time I turn back.
He lost gravity in himself long ago.
Now emptying mine...
Supposed to fill that void with himself now.
And all this expectation lacks sense.
Gifted me my loneliness, selfless.
He is a trapeze dancer;
(By Aslı R. Topuz)