Every night I empty my heart, but by morning it’s full again
Slow droplets of you seep in through the night’s soft caress
At dawn I overflow with thoughts of us
And aching pleasure that gives me no respite
Love cannot be contained
The neat packaging of desire splits asunder
Spilling crimson through my days
Long languishing days that are now bruised tender with yearning
Spent searching for a fingerprint, a scent, a breath you left behind.

– Shamim Sarif, “I Can’t Think Straight”