Would it be better
if I were shelved, or displayed
to the world; as art:
to bare my sorrows?

Would you accept
my aching presence, then?
I ask with my heart
Unseen and unheard; because:
My voice is bound
to lines and margins.

I showed her what the books meant
While we spent
Countless hours chasing butterflies
Travelling thousands of miles
And she’d quote something
Once in a while
As I struggled
To keep up with the adrenaline rush
Seeing her blush
In the woods along the river
We’d set up camp at night
All I knew was fright
As she held me closer tight
She’d show me the star
And I’d name it right
Every single time
And I’d make a rhyme
To suit her line
When she said something
But I'd lose
When she’d put up a fight
Arm wrestling or jungle trivia
It was her area
In that she’s a star
At par
With the flowers who blossom
In the *****
Of forests
Both thinking
As if they own it
She’s a delight
Like the moonlight
You get to see
After the sun’s long gone
And it’s mad time to be
Adventurous about the things
Human beings
Have forgotten somehow
She dances to the tune
Most ears can’t hear
I just had to bear
A little while with her
And here I am
With my feet in the air
As the rain pours
And I find the choirs
Sung by translucent pearls
It’s been a while now
And I must write another poem
It’s going to be about her
And nature

Wait, aren’t they the same?

In the orchard and rose garden

I long to see your face.

In the taste of Sweetness

I long to kiss your lips.

In the shadows of passion

I long for your love.



Oh! Supreme Lover!

Let me leave aside my worries.

The flowers are blooming
with the exultation of your Spirit.



By Allah!

I long to escape the prison of my ego

and lose myself
in the mountains and the desert.



These sad and lonely people tire me.

I long to revel in the drunken frenzy of your love
and feel the strength of Rustam in my hands.



I’m sick of mortal kings.

I long to see your light.

With lamps in hand
the sheiks and mullahs roam
the dark alleys of these towns
not finding what they seek.



You are the Essence of the Essence,

The intoxication of Love.

I long to sing your praises
but stand mute
with the agony of wishing in my heart.

Like wipers on windshield
we go left and right
alone or together
but never touch
even as rain pours
we just go
swish, swish
none listening to the other.

Same windshield
same car, yet
we are  far away
from each other,
speeding away
to a no where.

Somewhere between sane and insane dwells the lonely poet's soul.

it's easy to become lost within one's self.
picking apart one's skin until
old scars are ripped open.

but you bring me back.
god, do you bring me back.

your lips write me, like a poem.
your hands right me, like an old wrongdoing.

even when my blood has spilled
onto the floor, like ink to paper.
even when i cry, 'i have been alone!'

you bring me back.

scars will heal. but their mark will remain.
i tell you this, again and again.

but when my scars threaten to open,
and time travel to the past
is like an echo- it's so **** repetitive,

you bring me back.
god, do you bring me back.

There's something here
I'm sorry you're to blind to see it
but how, how can you not see
that you meant, you mean everything to me

There was always something here
from giggles over the years
and awkward silences that screamed
Oh how i wish i could tell you

There finally was, we were
we were the teenage romance
a story of struggle, laughter, and adventure
a story john green would be proud of

but then, you closed the book
distracted by new places, new adventures
but here i am, book open
ready to write new chapters