Will you help me carry my sadness
and throw it away in a deep well?

Will you visit me in a dream and help
me face my heart-wrenching dreams?

Will you wish me goodnight
before you leave me tonight?

Will you handle this foreign heart of mine,
or are you going to abandon it for another refuge?

All I ask is, will I ever be
welcome in your heart, again?

In the morning,
alone,
I plant a pill
on my tongue,
and it blooms
like a chemical kiss

In the afternoon,
I wash my face and
wounds with blood

At midnight,
the rain pours
on my pillow,
but I don’t weep

Every night,
I sleep in the burning house,
but cannot feel its warmth

I can’t tell if I’m awake,
or not done dreaming

All I ask is, when will I awake
from this never-ending nightmare?

Perhaps death is
my only awakening

The only motherly thing I knew
was the coldness of my blade;
gently washing away the
sadness of my burdened heart

I will write one last
poem which bleed
from my wounds

And in its final verse,
I will write a rhyme,
and say, weeping,
what my heavy
heart truly feels

Kiss my hungry mouth
till death comes to kiss

Press your heart
against mine and
abate my misery

Offer me your lips
to devour
to satisfy this hunger
within my lonely heart

Here,
take my useless heart,
it is yours to break

Here,
take my wounded soul,
it holds but agonizing pain

Here,
take my sleepy eyes,
they’ve witnessed enough chaos

Here,
take my whole body,
I wish to disappear completely

I am sorry for leaving,
your gentle touch was
hurting me, and your
gaze ate at my heart

At night,
aching and alone

I learned how to worship
the glittering fire of my mind

And in return,
it wrote this
poem for me

Come,
and lay down your sorrow
along with my solitude,
my heart is yours to break  

Come!
let us abate this
intolerable agony
with lavender tea
and beautiful poetry

I wrote a poem about her and
held it against my aching heart,
it sang to me a melancholic tune

She forced me to pray for a god
that never answered my prayers

When I told her that I wish to die,
she told me to recite Al-Ikhlāṣ

In her own eyes,
I was a sinner who didn’t worship
the same imaginary friend as hers

An imaginary friend that let her
steal my innocence instead of saving me
from her cruel hands and piercing eyes

How can I worship a god that
didn’t listen to my desperate cries
when I was abused,
abandoned, and bruised

When everyone has abandoned me,
my shadow laid there next to me,
and it whispered “let’s go home”

And when my poems
turned into suicide notes,
I sharpened the knife,
and put it on my pillow
to sing me to sleep

A bottle of pills with
my full name on it
White and motherly,
I heard them call my
name from a distance

I swallowed the pills,
I swallowed the knife,
my shadow swallowed me

I am finally home

Weightless and wordless,
she only saw the goodness
of my desolate soul

When she walked away,
I cried over the small
space between her lips

And just like the space
that separates her lips,
I was centuries away  
from seeing her again

An eyelash stuck on her left cheek,
she places it on the tip of her finger
makes a wish,
and gently blows it away
hoping it’d come true

Hold me like
a wish in your heart

Leave me like
you’re blowing
away an eyelash
to make another wish

Do it gently
and I promise,
I’ll come true

My happiest moments
were always the ones
where I’m closest to death

My head is always howling,
so I never sleep,
I keep on listening

I am but a shattered
ashtray that once
belonged to a dead smoker

I longingly thought of you,
but the memory of you has faded
slowly,
and led me away from you

I no longer remember
the shape of your lips,
nor the way your hands
moved when you talked

I am forgetting parts of you
with each lonesome night
I stayed awake without
your I love you’s

1.
The seasons changed,
but he kept wearing a sweater
during the steamiest weather

He spoke in three languages,
but has only felt the word:
Melancholy,
and the joyous absence of it

He wondered who he would
be without his sweater,
and the word Melancholy

2.
He never uttered the word father
for it was heavy on his tongue
like heavy rain on a bleak midnight

His mother loved him dearly,
or ruined him and called it love

A man has fallen in love with him,
and he felt for the first time; the
warmth of equally returned love

His lover tore apart his heart, and
told him it was the final act of love

3.
After eleven years of insomnia,
he stopped measuring happiness
based on how many nights he slept
A funeral rose in his heart as he wept

He muttered the word:
Suffering
as if it were
a prayer
or a lullaby

4.
Drawing road maps on his skin
was his only consolation,
he chose the color red
to find his missing path

Scars between his thighs
like hidden treasures—
Centuries deep
away from people’s sight

5.
His new beloved was in
the shape of a knife,
they embraced and
the gushing blood
was his final act of love

She was named after love,
and letters were exchanged
between lovers in her name

Poets found their muse
when she visited their hearts
and I was one of them

But my love never
reached her heart
like hers did mine

And so she left,
when my stubborn heart was
aching to be laced with hers

She left,
and my eyes were searching,
yearning for her

Dear Heyam,
I swear on love letters
and you
For it is the last poem
I write about you

Mother gave
me a blade

Mine was pink,
hers was purple

It was a useless sharp thing
that’s always in my drawer

One night,
I reached for the blade,
and it felt like my
mother’s embrace  

Every time I used it,
I was being released
from all my pains

Thank you, mother

Why shall I stay alive if death is my fate?

There is such
loneliness in
my heart, and
it consumes me
each deathly night

Weeping I laid
and waited for
the tears to dry,
but they remained
on my face like
a wound that
won’t seem to heal

The thought of you lingers
like a ghost that haunts
its old lover’s house

I spit your name
out of my heart,
and hope to never
remember you

A longing-pain
took hold of
my anguished heart
for I’ve missed you terribly

A rosebud
bursts into bloom,
and my thoughts
wander towards death

You have forsaken me
in May,
now I know that every
love is prone to decay

Maybe my heart will
stop crying all night long,
and I will be able to sleep

Maybe you will stop
walking in my dreams
like you’re still mine

Maybe my eyes
will forget yours,
and I won’t weep

Maybe my skin won’t
crave your touch, and
my hand won’t ache
to be held by yours

Joy overcomes me
born out of agony

Still I am burning
underwater,
I cannot be saved

When my soul departs,
alone,
know that I am glad to go

A heaven for an hour
for when I’m with her

A long desired kiss that
turns pain into a song
I have never heard

I would not long for death as
long as you remember my name

I scratched my head,
and a memory got
stuck under my nail

I sang to my aching heart,
it is yearning to be broken, again
Call it love

If I leave, I wonder if
peace will visit my grave

Those eyes,
those cold almond eyes,
that once were welcoming
at the sight of me,
like a warm welcoming home

But now they swallow me,
like the sea swallows
an old forgotten treasure

I am all the dreams
you had at night,
but forgotten
in the morning

And when she left,
I kept her lucky bamboo alive,
and wished that the leaves
will speak to me in her voice

But the leaves has grown quiet,
and turned into my favorite color

Does that mean our love has withered,
or have I been speaking with the dead?

I thought of you after a year,
but this time I didn't weep

Only my heart ached
over your absence
that left me breathless

I held your scent in my lungs
till you suffocated me
with your crooked smile
and broken promises

I swallowed your name
under my tongue,
and now my words
rhyme with your initial

I thought of you after a year,
but this time I weeped

I am yearning with
an ache for something
sharp to caress my arms

My heart sings
the bluest song,
but no one is
around to hear it

I hope one day,
my heart sings
a yellow song
that rhymes with
happiness and serenity

Keep thy head underwater—
staying afloat will not
quench this thirst of yours

A rotten skull
wired to feel melancholy

A nightmare self
that only saw freedom
at the tip of a kitchen knife
isolated from this life

A mind
with death plants
flourishing inside it

A garden of Angel's Trumpet
abloom with a deadly touch
recherché but poisonous

One of Azrael’s early visitors,
I’m now a flower in his graveyard

An angel,
spreading her wing
to take me under it
to ease the anguish
of my heavy heart

A heavenly creature
fled from a lover’s hell
to purify her stained heart

I never felt loneliness
till my lusted angel
flew back to her realm

Will she ever fly back
and risk losing another feather?

I whispered to my heart
filled with yearning,
“Be still”

Even if the curly ropes
of his hair
leaves you trembling
with an unsatisfiable hunger

“Be very still
dear anguished heart of mine”,
but as a leaf
I quiver
clinging desperately
by a bleak bough

For soon I’ll flutter
with the wind,
and fall down
along with my sorrows

As the fallen leaves
withered and loveless,
I shall crumble and disappear

A drunken god has
spoke you into existence
A stolen diary that told you,
it’s a sin to return this body
even if its weak bones
couldn’t carry the weight
of your heavy heart

I know I can speak myself out of it
With a blade in my hand
standing on the edge of the stage,
I’ll wait for the Almighty to sober up
and watch me steal his role

After twenty years of rehearsal
I’ll play god,
lights will go off,
and curtains will close

Your followers will clap in awe
at my convincing performance

As I bow before them
As I fall before you

I’m accompanied
by two tonight,
agony and her
beloved insomnia

Nothing lives inside
me any longer  
Perhaps I orphaned
this heart of mine,
when I didn’t listen
to its desperate cries
in need for a shelter

Cursed with homesickness,  
an abysmal void grew within me
that’s where I found refuge

Anxiety wraps
itself around me,

like a coat that
doesn’t fit me

like a lover that
doesn’t love me

like a fire that
doesn’t warm me

I am on a diet
from sharp knives

I have been fasting
for about two months

Here is my clean
untouched wrists

But what if I got thirsty
for a drop of my blood?

What if I got hungry, and swallowed
all the knives in the kitchen drawer?