Afiqah May 12
I gave every hurt a permission slip
to unmask and undo itself
until the sound of tomorrow
registers a certain sort of clarity
letting me brazenly  
arrive at myself
over and over again

Afiqah May 10
in your coming,
I found my flawed self
a little less scarred,
a little less fearful
as if you brewed something
charmingly sorcerous
and that taste for love came
with such flames
every second our hearts meet

Afiqah May 9
say your thank you’s
to the universe,
to the moon,
to the stars,
and especially to fate
for whatever’s written for you
has at least, held such otherworldly,
sirenic nights for you and your beloved
to sit by and be wild about
one another’s flames

Afiqah May 7
here we all are
in a city full of pulses
a living contradiction
we’re such timeless beings fleshed
with mortal emotive parts
in temporary bodies
yet funny how,
we always seemed a little famished
to settle our bit of soul out there
on the reckless side

Afiqah May 4
we’re always
a little hopeful
for all the wrong,
ungodly, savagery things

Afiqah May 1
do not linger and
litter your hopes around me this way
do not let me see forevers
with those deceitful eyes
misleading this very heart
if you’re only half here
and yet,
there you are,
being shifty, spitting sweet nothings
to the others, too

Afiqah Apr 29
learn that
such rejections in life
are merely disguised wardship
by God himself

Afiqah Apr 27
you’re already here
standing on the after of before
give yourself a toast
to those nights
you felt your breath clumsily falling short
you have made it to today
and yesterday,
they do not own you anymore

Afiqah Apr 27
this is how raw such hearts
will get scratched
one’s psyche will fickly be at war
this way or other
as we try to undo our vulnerability
into words and such
and we’re almost
always a little halfway
walking that path
where our iron-fisted sidekicks
are already at play

Afiqah Apr 21
we’ve all been here before
telling ourselves to breathe
this twisted, vexing habit
simply drives itself high on alert
ever so often
with such nagging throbs
and the heat of us,
just being
remains stirringly like
an open wound

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