I’ll be along my dear
In just a little while.
We will soon be reunited,
My heart gladdened by your smile.

I can’t forget your loveliness;
As you wore your favorite dress.
No more than I’d forget your love
Or  the day that we first met.

Yes this parting was a sorrow,
It’s no shame that I confess.
It’s true my heart felt heavy
From  this sudden loneliness.

We will soon be reunited
Dear companion of my heart.
Never more will we be lonely
When we’re nevermore apart.

I feel your thoughts turn
in the wild plum twilight,

as we stroll from
the crooked grocery

to the empire
of mauve carpets.

Your hand draws tight.
Your eye is wet and sharp.

You don't need to say it,
I know the hue and tint

of your just heart,
I feel the cutting wave.

In Arabic, "poetry"
is related to "hair" -

both things sense
the world so finely.

Well, let this poem
know you as gently

as your Rapunzel's hair
knows the evening air

winding through silver
avenues of moon.

The tenderness of a reddened cheek;
The softness of puffy eyes.
The bitterness of a mind bereft of sleep;
The emptiness of forlorn skies.

A caress, gentle and sweet;
A teardrop, as it slides.
Kneeling at love’s feet,
Even though love lies.

Honest, to the point of self-sabotage.
The protégé of wild predecessors,
Those who see through the mirage.
Emotionally combustible;
Violently vulnerable.

The beautiful, passionate side of humanity -
The irrational point past this side of sanity.
The raw, tearful embrace;
The clenched jaw as voices shake.
Getting kissed all over your face.
Goodbyes, like falls from grace.

Fragile, scared, and susceptible to feelings.
Strike me with arduous candor,
Raise wolfish cries to the ceiling.
Whenever I feel like this,
I feel like I fully understand the idiom:
‘Deer in headlights.’

And yet, paradoxically, the moth flies towards the flame!
Quizzically, we reach into the fire,
And expect the heat to take the blame.

I’ve been taught that emotions are by-products;
Excessive excrement of the soul,
Ill-fitting of those of sober and good conduct.

Sometimes, I feel like I can’t cry anymore.
I feel like looking to the sky for answers means nothing,
Like God’s skiving off his chores,
Like he ran to his room, and just slammed the door.

You reminded me it’s okay to cry;
To run tear ducts dry first,
And then later figure out why.
I will always owe you a debt of gratitude;
I wish I could bestow you with love of a fitting magnitude.
In the mean time,
I’ll relish your inquisitive eyes,
I’ll crave hearing your ‘what’s wrong?’
Like a golden-era relic from better times,
Like one of those eternal songs -
You are divinity,
And you don’t even know it.