A White Dress to Die In
By Büşra Marşan
Your love feels like I am trapped in garden of Eden
Blue green woods and the moist smell of healed heartbreaks
Bent stems of flowers tremble as a twig cracks
It’s like I’m home after my parents' divorce
Everything is familiar but the peace is strange
This was supposed to be my eternal glee
Though I am still looking for an escape from heaven
For wanting more than your warm and sweltering love
I sure must be a heathen craving fire and destruction
In long and steamy nights touched by poisonous lips
I desire to be the accessory to a crime of passion
So don't kiss me unless you intend to kill
I have a void that your happily ever after cannot fill
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A spartan born in 1996, she studies translation in Boğaziçi University. She has lived in London and various cities of Turkey and currently resides in İstanbul. She’s been writing for ages in both Turkish and English but only recently gathered the courage to publish her work. Her favourite authors include Salman Rushdie, Marcel Proust, Douglas Adams, Kurt Vonnegut and John Keats. She likes carbs, her cats, and well-written literature equally. She is proud of her début in The Bosphorus Review and dreams of making it to The New Yorker one day.