the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.

there's no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular
fate.

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else
fills.

And we stood there in silence.
She didn't cry
Nor did her voice shake.
She just looked at me straight in the eye
And said,
"I thought I was at least worth fighting for."
And when she spoke those words
In the calmest way possible
I swear I could almost hear her heart break.

She had skin like sand on the beach
    
         Warmed and tanned by the kiss of the sun

At the nape of her neck like the shoreline

           The sea met the sand

Her hair cascaded like like a tsunami down her back

          It was fierce and natural

So Pure in its freedom

         Her honey colored  eyes shine like the the sun on a spring afternoon

Warm and inviting

            She was a beach

Coming off the unbearably sweet high of our Nation's proud capital.
I salute you.
For bright mornings with fruit smoothies made so masterfully.
Afternoons of stasis.
Of quick showers and quick words on a condensed second floor.
Straight intelligence and legitimate knowledge.
Stories of brothers pranking in Palestine.
"Can I have some?" asked so coyly when candy is available for adults.
Thick hookah smoke burning my lungs and sapphire blues eyes.
Old nicknames. Flying off the tongue like song lyrics we all know.
Unfamiliar places, and familiar places.
Habibi. As-salamu alaykum. Words my cerebrum forgot but heart did not.
"Do you want coffee?" "Come here." "Kiss me."
Your smile. Your home. Your hands. Your eyes.
Nostalgia over taking our souls like baby pictures.
I wish it could've lasted forever.
But nothing does.
And that's good, right?
Too much of a good thing makes us greedy.

i've been watching you sleep
when the manifestos and proclamations of week days have become too heavy
slithering through me
i dream so much more beautiful
a block and half away from my own haven
streaks of red lipstick on my right hand
lullabies of your sleep talk

I take the shortest path imaginable to be among stars lining meticulously staked kiosks

beaming like the sun's gentle rays at dawn in autumn

mid-slumber, we float
skin colliding and causing ripples like pebbles in a stream

the noise he makes at 3 AM send a shock through my tattered and fragile skeleton

stopping short below my waist
where i start questioning my beauty because society hates an un-perfect anatomy
somehow that's your favorite place

early spring morning eyes that could sedate the wildest stallion

lips and teeth
so familiar

for minutes we've sat in silence with our limbs tangled

I've been waiting so long

the separate paths we crossed are conjoined at fingertips and hips

walk with me until the sun is barely peaking out

we're spilling out like whiskey on a hardwood floor

how are we still so full?