a nightmare
like a nightmare on a bed
I was walking in my fog
stepping in my alienation
kneeling down carrying the
sound of sunset
I became stumbling by the
echo
by the longing,
I've been guarding
the doors of ruin
to massage the palm of my
heart
so that the scars can not
pigment him
poem by
Ibtissam Ibrahim - poetess and translator
Iraq - Baghdad
Jul 17, 2021
Jul 17, 2021 at 12:21 PM UTC
I say..
how will I quit your love
and I am a daily worker like the ashes
slit the dust of silence
wipe the fingerprint on my heart
useful sentences scatter me
but your name, when it comes
bring me together
despite the curfew
Ibtissam Ibrahim
Nov 8, 2020
Nov 8, 2020 at 9:27 AM UTC