when you open your mouth
you open the windows and my halls and doors and there's no electricity.. yet. no onsite heating.. yet. i tell you im not scared but you know im wrong
the time to be
curious and passionate the time for intensive healing and recooperation .
we self regulate
like a thermostat. How did I come to deserve that from you? How did I come to deserve your gratitude and understanding and love? To explain would be to miss the point. so much can pass over my head when I feel loved. a lot of imagined danger the inertia of sadness I've had moments of fight fight fight where love started to cure my depression and I fought it like the Plague because I knew once the love was gone maybe quickly darkness would settle again and it would; a maze through the back yards and wide wide windows and wider white walls and my heart would sink at the darkness of car windows. I would swallow hard and call it a day Seemingly abyssal in darkness compared to the hopeful glow of love and closeness. And dedication. Dedication i'll never be entitled to. I didn't want to want something I couldn't own. I can never own you. I will never own your love. sometimes I get scared about how healing it is. You call me sunshine in the rain and I love. And I am hurt and you know so you wait. And I know. So I work. I want to give you my best. And sometimes my best is exhaustion. And I think; Its too early for this. Exhaustion like I have done so much. I'm too young to be exhausted. And I think I. fight fight fight to love myself because my little emerald wonder you seem to enjoy loving me so much. And you are in awe of my joy in loving you. I want that love to be a renewable resource. you say "after we are over", like the future, bright, holds so much I want that love to be a renewable resource
Ah you walk into
my room I'd been sleeping since Half past noon You walk into my space Crying "and I don't wanna be part of the human race" Ohh oh no you walk into my heart you're a breathing peice of modern art you breathe my feelings I'm listening in your pink room sky our hearts beyond this ceiling
eyes me shyly from down the street lost times that I had eyes for winter, my love, my only summer comes slowly .
We both saw a flurry of lilac
Maybe same day, wildly different feelings in our hearts We both wrote poems about Jacaranda Trees, I named mine Jacaranda wild You named yours every sensation I felt blooming in the sleepy bedroom town all green, all home, wholly my own where maybe I first bloomed We both wrote poems about Jacaranda Trees and you dialed and it rung "Habibi", you would say softly "I wrote a poem". I want to hear it And its every softness of my childhood I can see your emerald eyes Seeing what I'm seeing heart beating, feeling it all differently We share dreams in verses you weave the revolution cryptically into my heartstrings you tell me in poetry you tell me sweetthings "Ya Sattar, thats wonderful, Ca n I hear it?"
ya sattar- my little starling, habibi-my beloved; Arabic
Thick darkness and a quiet dawn
blare through my indifferent window this much I might expect from a premature sunrise And my window, giving as it is, would make no attempts to shelter me from a sun that maybe says things too harshly This quiet to me is Soft warm welcoming Dark and quick to accept a mind that for the time being will gladly perform it's own sunrise confluence of peach and gold burst My window makes no efforts to censor a light coming strangely from its other side
— The End —