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Mateen Manek May 2018
Like stained glass,
Your skin tells me stories
Of past pains and rejuvenations,
And the feelings of insecurity
You wrapped around yourself.
I can see where you’ve healed
And the parts where the bruises
Reappear from time to time.
You wish for it to be clear
But, through it,
I can see your soul;
That is clear enough.
Mateen Manek May 2018
The daylight fades,
Consumed by the orange sky;
A signal for the day
To say goodbye—
But that’s the great thing about you and I,
We are not bound by time.
Days and nights could pass
And our story will still continue,
New words day by day
Even when our days are so few.
And even when the final twilight
Comes and goes from our life,
The pages keep turning
All throughout the night.
Mateen Manek Dec 2017
There are those who only believe in one beginning, writing their story as a continuous sentence.

I choose to believe that I can have many beginnings, some that overlap. Every adventure is a short story, every relationship scripted by the playwright and every tragedy dripping with noir. And I am the one who chooses when they all begin and when they should all end.
Mateen Manek Dec 2017
Like a raging fire
That burns so brilliantly
Leaping from one point
To another,
Like a raging sea
That brings everything into it
Consuming every fibre,
Like the smoke that dances
Between the windows,
Our passions shall become
Exactly that.
Mateen Manek Aug 2016
My mind revolves around the Indian Summer.
The same one where you and I first met.
I told you upfront that I’d never been a lover,
But you’ve become the photograph stuck in my head.

The music filled the atmosphere
And the world became our playground.
I’m trying to remember what it was like to hear
The instruments that never made a sound.

The colors were much brighter
Where you and I would dance.
I used to be a fighter
Till the first time I held your hand.

I cannot forget that Indian Summer.
The same one where I first saw your face.
It was only the earth’s surface that I was able to hover
And now I soar with the stars in the never-ending space.
Mateen Manek Jul 2016
There was no strength in flames
Until I saw her candle lit bright--
Wax dripping from the wick of the light.
It was as if her worries had melted,
Never coming close to closing the flame.
Yet she, naive as she may be, always worried
That it was inevitable, as it happened
To the people she surrounded herself with.
What she failed to notice was that
Her light was what was keeping the rest of us
From turning to the dark.
Mateen Manek Jul 2016
Beautiful things
Happen in places
That terrify you.
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