I promise
That I will not notice
The little things about you.

Like the way your lips curl
When you impersonate someone
With an English accent;
Or the way you hold your glass
Not like a forty ounce
But like a hand.

I promise that I will take your kisses
As what they are:
Merely stone-faced
Applications of misplaced subterfuge.

I will make my sufferings my own in you.
I will bear my cross and carry onward,
A gaunt figure in your otherwise electric life.

I am a sallow husk
And you are the sun,
My jaundiced being yearns for you
But only through artificial means.

I am the sociopath
Who writes you letters
In coded tongues
That the New York Times
Will ask for help deciphering.

I will ask you for your love
In the fleeting moments of the morning,
The brightness in your eyes finally aflame
And you will give it to me
But take it back when the Earth rotates once more.

Come
Speak to me
My little bird
My only companion
In the silence

Do not challenge me otherwise you will repent
Try to understand the message just clearly sent
When I come straight I take revenge cent per cent
Whatever I strongly said that I do strongly meant

I will never leave you where ever I will just find
Till last breath you will find me in front, behind
I am of my own mood , of my own staunch kind
Basing on justice my all limits are just well defined

I will not conspire at back but will attack from front
In my honest pursuit against you I will bear the brunt
Under any circumstances never take light my statement
Still you are not aware of my strength and my talent

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow

one of the Orient’s oldest
and most beautiful important cities
inhabited for thousands of years
by generations after generations
of craftsmen, merchants, artists, dynasties,
famous architects of all styles and religions,
the western end of the old silk road
home to over 2 million citizens
until not long ago

a few weeks of modern warfare
were enough to destroy
what hundreds of generations had built
for their living as well as their sense of beauty

     rockets exploded churches, temples, and mosques
     artillery pulverized ancient palaces and new houses

     barrel bombs and poison gas
     killed the people

on tv we now see acres of urban wasteland
miles of rubble with no life
except for occasional tanks and soldiers
proclaiming victory over these ruins
in the name of a dictator whose regime
has become a puppet in global power games
no matter what the cost in lives or things

     to destroy is easy
     building things up is hard work

     with friends like these
     who needs enemies

I am not an “It.”
I am a person,
Just not the kind that fits your views.
Do not attempt to dehumanize me
Without consequence.
Not on the sidewalk,
Not in church,
Not at home, Nor school.
I am,
“They.”
“Them.”
“Their.”
But never
“It.”

My eyes keep seaching for you
and my fingers keep longing for your touch

Do you know how many times
I think of you and hold my breath?

And when someone mentions you,
the clouds make space for the sunshine,
the ocean tide disappears
and the earth stops rotating

Forgive me please
for not telling you
that I'd rather be a molecule of oxygen
in your lungs for ten seconds
than a minute apart from you

They speak about addiction
with such disdain
but how do I explain
that my addiction to you
is the only reason I'm still sane?

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night
walk around the balcony
and pray to God
we'll find each other again