I stopped for a moment. I am very sorry, Alberto. I have never wanted to break your heart. I used to be in love with you. Now? I want to walk away. I lit up a cigar. It is easier not to think of you and past, now. Quite a few things, actually; we were in Milano, we were walking on wet pavements with the smell of renaissance with italian language at a rainy night. I can’t stop regretting myself, I had loved you long enough, I refuse to feel guilty, love is love, it had started in Milano and ended in Istanbul, long distances to be a lover, you were feeling as same as me, we had been lovers before we moved to one life, now do you think the big love really ended?, I am too scared to hear the answer, I don’t like the facts , I am for dreams and imaginations, behind the cigar smoke in rain I am the woman to leave not to be left, I wanna go first, I must move before time this time, I have always been late in life, this must be the first time that I have ever made a move before time and the player, to be honest I am in rush to break up, before, before you…I found someone else, to be loved more and longer , the king of endless love, we have been near the end of our story and I think that you are thinking as me, we used to make long and strong sentences with future and love, we have been talking only about the moment for nights, stories, songs, plots, poems…They are about to over. Before all the pages finish, I must shut the door with a song playing at home, we both love reading Camus, we are enjyoing deeply listening to jazz, but maybe you won’t any more…You may be bored by my words, more possibilities to be left, more fears , more doubts…The conversation might last for more rainy walkings with doubtful pauses, very curious steps, never certain plans, mostly probable secrets, I can’t stand to be in a blue funk, you are impossible for me to love more, I’m hoping we’ll do well , instead of being with you mistrustingly, I prefer to be in trustworthy loneliness… I walked down the street, sat down on a pavement, lit up another cigar, thought of you and stood up without you… I walked home alone…

Alberto
Hülya Uçar.

The adventure ended. The best thing is to forget everything. A new winter, a new summer, a new evening… There was no dark-skinned stories nor very slowly old cars… You may pass under the old ladder, you may see the old black cat, you may also tell the old stories. I don’t care about you. Even you pass all the streets flying, even you call me at the top of the skyscrapers, even you overtake me from unwritten stories… I don’t care about you. Now, I’ve forgotten you as you want me to forget everything as easily as you wish… And summer stories which were rarely told as well… Night has never ended… You were always whispering, making different sentences one after another, your sunny countries… Nothing belongs to you… I have forgotten all about you… I remember neither your voice nor your eyes… Wooden doors, back doors, garden doors… They are as same as the closed stories like you and me… I am walking along the streets which I have never known before without you… We will never know what really happened, actually, nobody has known what happened in stories until now… We will not be different from usual. We will be two different passengers going away two different ways, one of us to the left, the other to the right…. We will be only an old sentence passed between us, as the pluperfect, we had been lovers once. Like the others. Neither 56th page nor 57th page, there will be no different end belong to us than others… Breeding canary birds at home, thinking about American literature history deeply or singing Italian songs perfectly as an Italian, nothing can change you, me or our end… Even we had been made the last sentence before all the sentences, we will be the lovers who going down the stairs, one to the left, one to the right… We have never had one direction… I have the tendency to leave you, I am a life funk, I am always as worried as one who is never able to be even a small town story around world stories, Let’s not do sums among us, I have no blond tresses, no brilliance…. No long stories… I haven’t been thinking of you in many stories, I haven’t been looking for your face in so many streets, I haven’t been breathing much more air with you, I haven’t loved you… I’ve got to come aboard… Neither right now nor before I have never looked for you, never waited for you… I don’t care you even now… This fear, this worry, this hurt will get better soon… Everything passes to old lives… Like the time before you… I only shut the door as you had wished at the beginning of the story… As you had wanted me to forget all about everything… I have forgotten. I have come aboard…

Leaving Love Hurts
Hülya Uçar.