skin as soft as freshly washed sand,
the taste of salt upon my lips.
is it the same for you?
your eyes are the shards
of pale green glass strewn
along the beach,
wherever I go you watch me,
whatever I do you see.

like a prophet
wishing that only the best part
of his prophecy comes true,
I come to you, a faithful pilgrim,
head covered in the clouds
a galabiyya of air about my body.
I prostrate and entwine myself
with you in supplication,
like the finely knotted stitches
of a prayer rug
and I whisper that until you,
I had never been so religious.

your previous lovers
who cluttered their love with stone and mortar
will not be soon forgotten,
I who clutter you with words
am already,
like one breath following another.

all that I write on your skin
is washed out to sea
and returns on the wind
spread like the seeds of wild flowers
which grow among the rocky hills and ruins
like silent colorful pilgrims
up by the mosque of sidna 'ali
as the last remains
of a religion, and a memory,
and a love  and words.

Sands slip through my fingers,
sun scorched with dried blood
staining the palm where I wiped the blade.

I did not bleed. I did not bat my eyes
when his severed limb flew past my face.
My eyes opened wider and tasted victory
more intently than my screams
vanquished his memory.

I thought it was but an apparition on the sands
miles past; a haunting, a demon, a scorned lover
back for revenge now that I made off with valuables:
the fastest steed, the cave within me
where he stored his treasure when he pleased.

Thus when he appeared, when he charged by foot
and outstretched his arms (much smaller from my new height)
feebly, weakly to end me first, so he could brag to the village,
"She is like the women who believe they can fly."

I do fly
to my sword,
my hand unsheathes the blazing boiling metal.
With one sharp ting I watch his arm and the tiny dagger
sail across the desert and settle atop the sand,
gently gracefully, unlike his living, boasting words
would have wanted.

To the man who brought destruction in the depths,
where coolness and faithful waters dripped down the walls;
where no one dared near for fear of the One who is near me.

They will say warrior was born of ruins.
If they ask me, I will say, "Warrior is born of defeat no more."

I want to tell you not to forget me
To think of my face and smile
Of time we spent talking and touching
But loving really wasn't my style.
I thought it'd be easier to be alone
I'd done it for so many years before
But when I remember your voice, dear
I realised I'd always wanted more.
But of course right now I have nothing
I ruined it all, I know
I am my own worst enemy
I don't blame you for letting me go.
I want to tell you not to forget me
But perhaps it is best that you do
Move on in your life without me
And leave me with just memories, of you.

think about how
we see ruins
as beautiful
like the
Acropolis or
the Colosseum
and Pompeii,
though they’ve spent
years and years
breaking,
crumbling,
disintegrating,
until all that’s left
are fragments of what it used to be
but we still see it today
with awe
and admire all of its glory

and i think maybe
it’s the same with people
it’s easy to fall in love with the remains
of something you did not see
fall apart first.

I think of you,
While in the streets.
Where the cold air blew,
Where sun and moon meets.

I think of you,
While in the jeep.
When people are few,
When I fall asleep.

I think of you,
While on the stairs.
Where we talked onto,
Where we gave cares.

I think of you,
While in the corridors,
When the sky is blue,
When all are happy colors.

I think of you,
Are you happy?
Do you think of me too?
Is this we are to be?

Thinking about you,
Ruins me.
Thinking about you,
Kills me.

It's the big cities that fascinate me
But then ruins are the sights to see
The dark lit corners
With broken shards of mourners
Loud car horns
Who bite at your feet with thorns
Bursting with their party voices
Made of rich history and choices
Small talk on the engines
Stories poking you like pins
Of running traffic lights
With power at the peak of heights
Something like a aurora borealis
They speak of this
A city of lights and wonders
Shaking from the roar of thunder
Twinkling like stars on the ground
The whispers can be heard from the ashes that lay around.

I stepped into a hollow cave
in search of something new.
Don't know what I was thinking
maybe I was searching for a clue.
The sun's rays couldn't hit me anymore
I was surrounded by rocks
and fossils.
I fell in love with the ruins
of an old,lost city
with narrow streets and dark caves
with skeletons on the street
and gold coins in the shade
All of these ruins
only to forget you

Standing in a harvested field, the sky touching the ground
Not a raise, a tree, or a hill to be found
A coal black cloud is coming down
Standing there head back, hoping in it's rain I drown
My heart is bleeding black
Everything from a young age went so off track
I am just the black sheep
I am just the freak
Watch me as my eyes leak
This lonely watch I keep
On my knees now I just weep
It's only sorrow that I reap
For a life lived amongst the ruins
Living under a storm constantly brewing
Daylight seeped through once or twice
Made the formless bleakness more than thrice
So I beg for no more light
It just makes it harder to fight
If blackness is where I'm ment to stay
Just keep the sun away