It’s a miracle that I’m still around
After I lost my skin
And walked all over Tehran’s streets,
Absorbing all the noise and pollution
Directly into every little muscle and bone.

It’s a miracle that I still love—
Even if very selectively,
And surgically cautious.
Even if from a distance,
From my carefully curated living space
Where only music, art, and fashion are allowed,
With no pre-screening and constant monitoring for letdown and betrayal.

It’s a miracle that I still smile—
Even though, if you look closely
At the corner of my mouth,
You would notice a trace of unbreakable sadness.
That’s why, when I feel too deep,
I look away.

There was a time, when I was younger,
When I loved so freely,
So carelessly,
So curiously—
But I got pushed and pulled,
Hurt and burnt
Beyond the point of my breaking.

You cannot see it,
But my soul carries all those wounds
And burn marks on her skin.
And she carries them
Like a badge of honor.

Because it’s a miracle that I still breathe.
And it’s a miracle
That I kept my dreams.

People die, don’t they?
Most of the time, you don’t know them—
so you don’t hear about it.

But sometimes, you know who died.
You receive a message,
you read it,
you don’t digest it.

You send some messages,
not because you want to,
but because you have to.
You make people sad,
you make them relive that moment—
not because you want to,
but because you have to.

There’s the you on autopilot,
following what must be done.
And the you in the coffee shop,
reading a book,
sipping hot chocolate,
as if no one died today.

No one you know.
Not yet.

The sweetness fades.
The weight arrives.

You wonder if you truly knew her favorite color,
Her favorite moment,
What she would have wished for

Perhaps not this.
Not like this.
Not today.

At first
My abuser dresses like a prince on a white horse
Speaks like a true gentleman
And keeps tabs on all my fears and discomforts
'cause he "cares"

Than
He smiles for the camera while twisting my arm under the table
He means "well"
He convinces me that my pale and expressionless face is more beautiful than ever

In the end
For a good while I confuse my weakened heartbeat and the numbness running through my veins for the "calmness"

But than
In the pitch black of the reality
I see a diminishing flame flickering inside me
In its light
My dreary reflection reassembles a way out

I don't know how you do it
It's like you can read my mind
Even in those days when I feel
My head is as busy as time square in the middle of a beautiful summer night

With a boat made of hope
I'll go sailing
In the search of love
If my heart gets wrecked and crushed
From the storm of empty promises
I'll bury it in the depth of my chest
like treasures from a shipwreck
For you to find it and peace it back together