"what's my problem?" he asked.
"your problem is that you've got everything that you ever wanted and now you don't know what to do with it." she said.
"that makes me a bad human then." he looked up.
"that doesn't make you a bad human. that just makes you... human." she replied.
Sep 25, 2019
Sep 25, 2019 at 6:39 AM UTC
"that's the irony of loneliness, you see. all of us feel it." said ma with tears in her eyes.
with that, she picked up her bags and walked out from the world she had spent more than twenty years to build for us to a world of her own.
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 1:44 AM UTC
i like to write sometimes, i say.
sometimes.
i like to write when the sun is doing it's daily job of spraying my neighborhood with gold
or when i look up at midnight
and see tiny silver stars thrown carelessly on the black sheet of night sky
i like to write when sadness sits on my chest
or when worthlessness rattles in my bones
i like to write when i desperately have to pour my heart out and
the ink of my pen becomes my blood
and the words i write
become my smiles and tears,
the paper becomes my skin,
full of wounds
i like to write about sadness, happiness, beauty, tragedy, thoughts, feelings
i like to write about the everything in nothingness.
- hiba
Sep 21, 2019
Sep 21, 2019 at 1:59 AM UTC
born a sinner,
under crescent moons
and among chants of "talaq, talaq, talaq"
forced to hide behind a star studded veil to be preserved against blood thirsty eyes
glass bangles and silverware replaced the dolls in her hands and the fairyland of her dreams
led on a rose colored path, and into a gold painted cage marked marriage
greedy scars crafted by her lover marred the canvas of her body
only punctured fairy blue wings and dying embers of an electric soul remain
but she rises from the ashes,
sits on her velvet throne
and adorns the bejeweled crown
she reclaims the legacy of her goddess mothers,
durga and cleopatra
this time you don't get to see our strained faces,
this time you don't get to mock the dying fire of our eyes
because now,
we know our rights.
now we're armed with spears of knowledge.
we're the queens of our own kingdoms, unique in our reigns.
we were supposed to be treated like flowers, right?
but you threw us into the mud of your crimes
and we bloomed like lotuses,
reckless and vivacious.
we earned it all.
- standing beside, not against
Sep 20, 2019
Sep 20, 2019 at 9:57 AM UTC
beyond this so
called city of a
concrete jungle
lies a field
where golden
honey thick
sunlight
makes my dark
skin glow
bright sunflowers
and red roses
go wasted under
my swift feet
and dreamers
still find time
to look at the
moon
and to steal
starlight
for their
glittering eyes
i'm leaving early
tomorrow
paint me on your
dusty canvas
and make me
immortal
when i'm gone,
floating in space
and suffocated by
dreams i can't
create.
- hiba
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 12:14 AM UTC
homemade strawberry jam.
lullabies. late night rains.
a plum from grandma's garden.
going down the ferris wheel.
scars from childhood.
change. growing up.
colorful swirl candy at the carnival.
a room after a party. slow songs.
your words. your soul. & your lies.
stuck somewhere between
love and friendship.
falling. "almost."
back to strangers.
goodbyes. leaving.
fresh pears and ripe peaches.
coming back. memories; regrets.
the ****** 0 missed calls.
autumn sunsets. revolution.
& you.
~ some things are so beautiful they hurt
- hiba
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 5:46 AM UTC