When sane:
- You with 69 was I when 22 was I. 22 was I when 69 was I.
When insane:
- I was 69 when I was 22. I was 22 when I was 69 with you.
Tuesday 26 June 2012
Monday 25 June 2012
You know the answer?
The same old question-
Where shall I go?- to the left where nothing is right?
- to the right where nothing is left?
Your daughter...
I know exactly how she is going to look when she is eleven. She would have your eyes and get my skin. Her smile would be mine but heart would be yours. She would have your shoulder but my wings. She would speak like me but think like you. Her lips are going to be mine. Her speech, yours.
She would be a lover like you and be loved like me.
Her fingers would be mine but palm, that of yours.
Dark hair, sunshine.
She would contemplate with open eyes.
She would never have nightmares like either of us.
No lines on her forehead as she grows old.
She would toss in white and roll in green.
She would be my alpha and your omega.
She would wear your favorite color-
on her first birthday and finger the first slice of cake
For you.
She would be your morning, night, and evening star.
She would nimble on your food and kiss you every time you cocoon her in your arms. Her eyes would search for you everywhere. She of course would not know how to comb her hair and you would mess it up further. She would be 15 and chop it all. You would dig your face in my arms and say "This is not what I wanted at all."
She would bring her first school trophy to you. She would say "This is for you."
She would give her cold glance when you say "No" to something. She would hate it every time you would object to a boy-friend of her's coming home. She would sneak out in your car and sing "I am a gypsy" high and low. You would see through her little, cunning lies yet let her go.
She would come to me whenever she feels angry and I would end up making her feel angrier. I would continue to suck and you would keep healing both of us.
She would cry over a torn dress and I want to see you hug her. The touch of your hand would make her believe, she can never fall apart.
In 18, she would fall in love and have her heart broken. Her heart breaks would get her going. She would become a woman slowly and I would see you grow old. Grey, thin hair, pajamas rolled- but still you would be my man with deep eyes and this mysterious soul.
She would roll on your depth and toss on your peace. She would have the best of everything. She would be yours and she would be mine. She would be ours, she would be life.
She would be your Rubaiyat to Allah and my prayer to God. She would be the life we lived for, we loved.
She would be a lover like you and be loved like me.
Her fingers would be mine but palm, that of yours. Dark hair, sunshine.
She would contemplate with open eyes.
She would never have nightmares like either of us.
No lines on her forehead as she grows old.
She would toss in white and roll in green.
She would wear your favorite color-
on her first birthday and finger the first slice of cake
For you.
She would be your morning, night, and evening star.
She would nimble on your food and kiss you every time you cocoon her in your arms. Her eyes would search for you everywhere. She of course would not know how to comb her hair and you would mess it up further. She would be 15 and chop it all. You would dig your face in my arms and say "This is not what I wanted at all."
She would bring her first school trophy to you. She would say "This is for you."
She would give her cold glance when you say "No" to something. She would hate it every time you would object to a boy-friend of her's coming home. She would sneak out in your car and sing "I am a gypsy" high and low. You would see through her little, cunning lies yet let her go.
She would come to me whenever she feels angry and I would end up making her feel angrier. I would continue to suck and you would keep healing both of us.
She would cry over a torn dress and I want to see you hug her. The touch of your hand would make her believe, she can never fall apart.
In 18, she would fall in love and have her heart broken. Her heart breaks would get her going. She would become a woman slowly and I would see you grow old. Grey, thin hair, pajamas rolled- but still you would be my man with deep eyes and this mysterious soul.
She would roll on your depth and toss on your peace. She would have the best of everything. She would be yours and she would be mine. She would be ours, she would be life.
She would be your Rubaiyat to Allah and my prayer to God. She would be the life we lived for, we loved.
Thursday 21 June 2012
My black and white Love
I have tested myself a lot of times- tried to see if I could
unlove you.
Cheating you is only coming back to you with a stronger vow, a stronger pull, a stronger purpose.
You are the only inevitable truth. You are truer than death. Your truth is larger than the looming darkness. You are as true as God, You are as true as the essence of existence.
Cheating you is only coming back to you with a stronger vow, a stronger pull, a stronger purpose.
You are the only inevitable truth. You are truer than death. Your truth is larger than the looming darkness. You are as true as God, You are as true as the essence of existence.
Love, I do.
Love you are.
You are Love.
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