first love in times of yore, what surrounded me was a plethora of classics i could dip my stubby nose into and get lost in the off-white pages just for a moment, just for a moment. in times of yore, when i felt lonely in the comfort of my own room or within a crowd as grand as Times Square, i always had her, a book consisting of mysteries, surprises, and various characters who speak volumes to me through their struggles so i can forget about my own, just for a moment, just for a moment. in times of yore, when i didn’t want to write about my own story because the thought of it made my chest feel heavy and my heartbeat mechanical, i turned to her, the stack of books collecting dust in the corner of my room. out of the rips and creases, i never failed to see a smile with an implicit command that asks of me to get lost in her just for a moment, just for a moment. in times of yore, i couldn’t even bear to look at her. papers different from the ones that i have dog-ear folded were piling onto my desk. i began to worry about the monochromatic ones that never fail to blind my eyes and juice out my mind’s creativity every single time i read a line. but i have to get through these papers as tall as the wall Humpty Dumpty fell off of, the tower Rapunzel was locked in, the buildings Tom cheated on Daisy in, just for a moment, just for a moment. during times when i have lost my core, she begged me to return to her when my fingers numbed to the feeling of writing mind-nulling formulas and logistics, stroking my fingers among endless stacks of papers; i became emotionally void. i resorted to the corner of my room, boxes of broken memories and rugged routines surrounding me, with her directly across me. i nodded, crawling, fingertips full of calluses and unfortunate paper-cuts, knees kissed with bruises and carpet burns, eyes holding onto the baggage of restless nights and tears from burning myself out. i grasped her by the spine and weakly opened the first page, my eyes trying to focus on the bittersweet sight just for a moment, just for a moment. during a time when i closed the door to my childhood memories and childish habits, she sat nooked between others like her. a smile lifts from my lips at the sight of her, she’s always there for me when i need her, the naive Junie B Jones chronicles, the collection of poetry in which the princess can save herself, the tragic love story of Tengo and Aomame in a makeshift world of 1Q84, the tragedy of Katniss and the Hunger Games, the mistakes the Afghani man has made that changes him eternally, and the silly mouse who gets a cookie, just for a moment, just for this moment. because at a time of nevermore, she will always be there for lost souls within a bookstore, to accompany you on the seashore, for when you need to escape the dance floor, or hidden behind an open door. nevertheless, she will always be there just for a moment, just for your moment.
why i'm missing you this spring day
underneath the cherry blossoms, we took photos of each other smizing, smiling, laughing, and humming along to songs we found absolutely ridiculous. underneath the cherry blossoms, we ran and ran so freely, huffing, puffing, completely out of breath, giggling hysterically and falling gently onto the ruined vivacious petals. underneath the cherry blossoms, we lied down, bodies facing towards the jubilant rays of the sun. what we saw were thousands of ebullient petals grasping onto their branches while remaining as ethereal as they can be. in awe of the beautiful sight, we wrapped our fingers together and our hands became one. underneath the cherry blossoms, we sat on top of a concrete slab while looking into each other's beaming eyes and confessed secrets that were like the ones you told me in home at 3 am. underneath the cherry blossoms, we sat beside each other in silence, backs turned against each other, faces that read uncertainty of what to do or say. you decided to leave me and walk besides someone else on this beautifully miserable Spring day.
Melis Gördem, a current Sophomore at Rutgers University as of the Fall 2019 semester. She is currently majoring in Psychology and minoring in Creative Writing to get the best of both worlds of her passions. Besides balancing her coursework, she enjoys writing melodramatic poetry and prose in the spur of the moment when reminiscing life experiences. One of her fervor poems, “why i didn't march,” is featured on the She Will Speak Series: Gender Based Violence Anthology curated by Cheyenne Tyler Jacobs. She hopes that with her introspective poetry and prose, she will be heard.