The Truth

The truth is silent.

Dormant.

Covered with deceit and false pretences.

Like a sunflower hiding its petals from the searing darkness.

And then it will emerge.

Dusting off the layers of nothingness to find a hoard of shattered pieces.

Not belonging to anyone. Just lying there waiting to be discovered.

And discarded again.

Because the truth doesn’t mend.

It destroys. 

10 years

Of all the things I've lost, I can't let you go. My mind knows that I should move on. My faith knows that it was for the best.
But my heart bleeds. I keep searching for you in my memory. I keep searching for you in my future. Even though you are irreplaceable. I wonder if I will hold you again in heaven. I wonder if you will visit me in my dreams as the boy you would've become by now. I wonder if your eyes would've still been blue. I wonder if your black silky hair would've lost its luster and sheen or stayed the same. I wonder if you would've been the male figure showering me with the tenderness I've always lacked. Maybe it is best that you're gone. Maybe my expectations of you would've suffocated you.
And maybe that's why I can't let you go. Maybe you represent to me more than just a piece of me. Maybe you are the piece of me I loved the most; the piece I needed the most; the piece I miss the most.
Ten years later, my dried up tears are fountains of pain. The anguish I feel of never holding you again cannot be explained. Ten years ago, I held your tiny dead body in my arms and even though this could be insanity manifested, I know you felt my promise to never let you go. You will always be safe and sheltered in my heart.
My baby, wherever you are now, my connection with you will never be broken.
I am your mother, till my last breath.

I am.....

I am the light, shining bright.
I am the tomorrow that is never late.
I am the glory and the promise.
I am the giver not the taker.
I am the depths of forever and the story of eternity.
I am a never ending myth and an untouchable legend.
I am sought, not the seeker.
I am magic and I am reality.

I am.
And I always will be.

Sudden death

It's never sudden death.
Never.
It's a slow, cancerous death.
Sneaking up uninvited.
Manipulative.
Blending itself casually as if it is exactly where it belongs.
Hissing eerily every once in a while, like a snake does before it attacks its prey.
Retreating only right before it is exposed.
Taking cover.
Reappearing wearing a different skin.
Venomous.
Striking when it's most powerful.
Causing death.
Creating an illusion.
Of sudden death.
But it is never sudden death.

Needles

A child laughs.
She gazes at where the sound of his laughter is floating from. And she smiles. And the child laughs some more. Her gaze falls on them.
He's laughing along with the child's laughter. Teasing him even further; wrestling gently, tickling and driving his joy to even higher heights. She is trying to disentangle their messy web of limbs and failing, a look of happiness and serenity glowing on her face. Even though it's dark. She surrenders and laughs along, her womanly pride of being both the wife and the mother of the couple next to her unerringly evident.
She turns her gaze back to the emptiness in front of her. And she waits for him to return with her coffee. He's been gone for five minutes but she already misses him. She misses their unfinished story. She misses the husband he will be. She misses the father he will become.
And that's the exact moment she feels it again. The invisible prick of the needle, carelessly drawing blood from her heart, leaking into her soul. She brushes off the familiar feeling. She knows this needle. It's only one of many, sucking her dry; slowly but surely.
And the smile that illuminates her face when she sees him returning toward her can be mistaken for anything. But pain.

The Road less traveled

It is a long and weary road. With curves and bumps. Narrow at times, bending suddenly, without warning. And you have to keep your eyes wide open, always alert, lest you get lost in one of its dark alleys. And your companions drop one by one; sometimes from exhaustion, sometimes willingly, and sometimes they leave you to complete the journey alone. Sometimes you push them away because they're holding you back. And sometimes you want to beg them to stay but your pride stands in the way.
And you always have to keep questioning your decisions. Your choices. You need to reach the end of the road, so you have to keep learning and adjusting your bearings.
And sometimes you just want to be alone, because carrying the burden of compromise and understanding is wearing you down. And sometimes you blame yourself for losing the worthy and keeping the unworthy. And other times you question them; because how could they have abandoned you so easily?
It must be you.
The pattern fits.
It must be you.
So live with it.
And just keep going.
Maybe you'll find someone waiting at the end of the road less traveled.
At the end of the loneliest road. 

The oldest tale....

He comes.
He disappoints.
He leaves.

The end. 

Climb up the wall and fall down flat.
Dust off and keep on stumbling across.
Climb up another and fall down straight.
Kid yourself all you want.
There's no one keeping track.

The First Loss

You never said it,
You never showed it,
I never felt it,
You never spoke it.

I craved a hug,
I craved a smile,
You never sought it,
You never budged.

And now you're gone,
Forever lost,
You won your battle,
I lost my war.

So tell me this,
Forget the twist,
If lives repeat,
Would you still insist?

Incomplete

Half a breath.
Half a smile.
Half a laugh.
Half a soul.

A wave that doesn't reach the shore.
A sun that sets before rising.
A breeze that starts then rests.

A longing.
For you. 

She said....

"I keep falling in love with you over and over again,
I keep sinking into the depth of your eyes unexpectedly,
I keep missing you every moment we're apart,
I keep lacing my fingers through yours just to feel safe,
I keep feeling the depth of your pain like it's my own,
I keep hearing the rhythm of your heartbeat like a lullaby to my ears,
I keep smiling every time your lips touch mine,
I keep craving your arms around my waist,
I keep losing myself to you when you ruffle my hair,
I keep questioning your mystery and your charm,
I keep wondering why,
I keep wondering how,
I keep asking myself and forgetting the answer,
I keep myself beholden to your spell,
I keep falling in love with you over and over and over and over again."

Arabian Jasmine

The familiar scent.Whiffing through; a snapshot of a different era.

She stops what she's doing and stands perfectly still. She knows this scent. But it doesn't make sense. Where did it come from? And how can it just appear suddenly, out of nowhere? Is she imagining it?
She inhales deeply. It's real. It's not imagined. It's as strong as her certainty that she's breathing. It's as pungent as her fears and as present as her demons.
And then she realizes that it must have come through the open window. The window that's been left shut for years. The window she chose to open now. To let in some air. Never for a minute imagining that the breeze would carry a scent she'd long forgotten, yet so lovingly remembered.

Jasmine. Not just any jasmine. The Arabian jasmine she'd planted as a child, and worn around her neck as a young woman. Probably the only constant thing in her years of ambiguity. One of the many things she lost along with herself.

And now it had just invaded her subconscious in the space of a few seconds. Like it had never left her. Like it had never been lost to her. As if the years had never gone her by. But they had.

She turns toward the window. Without hesitation she pushes it. Tightly shut.

Remember

I try to remember what it was like and I fail.
I want to remember. I want to know how I was. I want to know what I was.
I want to know who you were.
Why I stayed and why I left.
Why I loved and why I stopped.
I want to remember but I can't.

Was it a dream? Was it real?
Or was it a nightmare?

The life I have now is all I know.
The life I have now....is all I have.

The life I have now is all I want.

Whirlpool

Round and round it twirls. Consistently aggressive. Effortlesly continuous. Not stopping to think or assess its destination. Like a madman on a mission of redemption, ignorant of all factors except his quest for salvation.
Not knowing if it's the pull or the push that's creating the momentum. Not understanding that it's not a choice. That the current will flow regardless of will. That the cone will eventually narrow until it suffocates every breath trying to nourish the lifeless waves. Senselessly pulled to their depth without mercy. Abandoned in darkness, left to shudder with surrender.

And then it rests. When it hits rock bottom. 

Thirst

She glances at the glass of water. It's out of reach. If she stretches a little, she could touch it. She could even hold it. And if she did, she'd quench her thirst.
But she's tired. There's no fight left in her. None. Not even enough to reach for the glass of water she so needs.
And she thinks to herself, I might even drop it when I hold it. So, what's the point in trying. I've tried before. I've done it before. I know how it's done. But it's a decision. To exert the effort or to give up.

And in giving up lies the beauty of numbness.

A glimpse of home

A shadowed soul.
Hung over with desire.
Exasperated by longing.
Hungry for more.
Never satisfied.
Never relenting.

The dew settles and washes away nothing.
A mystery of sorts.
Hooded and hiding, yet shining like never before.

Ahead. Keep looking ahead.
Maybe you'll find a glimpse of home.

What do you see?

Look through the tainted glass.
Look through the tarnished surface.
Look through the ragged edges.

What do you see?

In Between

That labored breath.
That slight restlessness.
That thickened voice.

And that vast distance in between all that matters, and all that doesn't.

Eve

Quickening heartbeat.
Parted lips.
Flushed cheeks.

He lets her in. He gently brushes her lips with his. A tremor runs through her body. Electrifying her senses further. She abstains from displaying even a modicum of hint. Gracefully lowering her head as she passes him by. She pauses and turns around, cocking her head to one side. She lets her gaze take him in from head to toe, with a slight mischievous smile creeping upon her lips. He holds her gaze unflinchingly, his eyes becoming narrow slits of darkness. With a sudden swift movement, he lunges forward and grabs her from the waist, and pulls her to him. She throws back her head and laughs, challenging him, knowing he will take her cue.

And so he does.

قريبة ولا بعيدة؟

حلم ولا مستحيل؟

ممكن؟

يا رب

Tug of war

Nobody thinks of the rope.
Everyone thinks of which side will win.

The rope.
Pulled in every direction. With coarse hands and soft hands. With might and with tact. Sometimes gently, and sometimes roughly.
But it is pulled. Always pulled. It was made to be pulled. To bear the weight, and uphold the load. Worn out with time, but never fading. Never dormant. Never serene. Its destiny determined by the forces around it. By the resilience of every shadow of doubt or second thought.
And the rope injures.
And leaves marks.
Scarring the skin. Sometimes seen, and sometimes within.
The harder you tug at the rope, the deeper the cut.

With every win, there's always a loss.

Sea Shells

Beautiful.
Exquisite.
Unique.
Gathered with tenderness. Kept with care. Touched with love.

A random collection from the deepest of seas, each handpicked with a smile, and a common understanding. Each inspected for signs of their past life, before being promised a new life. A life of whispered passion, witnessed under the stars, sealed by a kiss.
A life that cannot be replaced. A life of their own. Silently tucked away between the curves of their existence.

Cherished for eternity.

Wind of Fear

He kept waiting for her to ask him to stay. She kept waiting for him to turn around.
And between her hesitation, and his pride, a thousand words were left unsaid.

She lost her breath when he wasn't around. He lost his bearings when she was far.
Brought together by fate; separated by choice.
She knew he could hear the cry inside her soul. He knew she understood the pain inside his heart.
And even though they were the only two that could silence the cries and soften the pain, they stood still.
Paralyzed by passion.
Intoxicated by anger.

They stood still. Watching their dream become tiny fragments of endless possibilities, lost to the wind of fear.

The Restlessness

The normalcy of hidden meanings.
The allure of the unknown.
The ambiguity of the reality.
The confusion of the mind.
The reluctance of the heart.
The mind games.
The push and pull.
The hesitation.
The determination.
The dual personality.
The good and the evil.
The morality of the temptation.
The trap.
The endless maneuvering to nowhere.

And the disappointment. Always the disappointment.

Simple Dreams

A cozy apartment.
With a sun filled terrace.
And an open kitchen.
A warm rug in the winter.
Sketched duvets for the girls.
Their drawings on the walls in their room.
A dog.
Sunshine.
Sunshine.
Sunshine.
The sound of their laughter.
A coffee maker.
Shiny floors.
Sunshine.
Vanilla scent.
Sunshine.

I'll never close the drapes.

See Saw

The exhilaration of rising as high as possible. The anticipation, after the descend, of what is to come once more. And then the frustration, the gentle let down, because no matter how hard you push, the rush is not as breathtakingly spontaneous as it was before.
The gradual slowing down. There's no more desire to push. There's no more effort to exert because you're worn out. And you know that the result will be disappointing. So you cease your movement, and go slack. And you float, letting the see saw control you, taking you to lighter depths, and milder heights.
And it stops. But you are reluctant to leave. Because it felt so good. So refreshing. So different. You want to go one more time. Maybe, just maybe, you'll lose your breath once more. Laugh once more. Skip a heartbeat or two again. Maybe.

And then you remember that there is someone else on the other end. That you were not riding that see saw alone. That for you to rise further, he should push harder. That moment where your laughter echoed, was that moment he did that trick to make you jump in your seat. That instant where you almost fell off but held on tightly, was that instant he challenged your resistance. And you suddenly realize that you stopped enjoying the ride, when he stopped taking part in it.

But you still wait. You still can't get off that see saw. You still wait for him to take the lead. You wait for your cue to start pushing. Because when you both rode together, it was the moon and stars shining in the darkest sky.

So you wait.

The Edge

She sat at the edge.
She always sat at the edge. It was her favorite spot. At the edge, she could see everything. She could see the waves crashing right below her when she tilted her head forward slightly. And she could see the waves barely turning over in the far off distance. She could see the vast sky spreading above her head, and could follow the clouds as they drifted along.
She could count the stars when the sky darkened. She could feel the wind blow away the strands of her hair across her face. She could spread her arms in front of her into space, and she could lie on her back while her feet dangled into the nothingness that was below her.
The edge didn't scare her.
The edge disturbed her.
It began where it ended and ended where it began.
It provided endless possibilities for disaster, and unimaginable opportunities for rejuvenation.
It fascinated her.
It captivated her.
She felt drawn to it, taking shelter in its emptiness. Yielding her senses to its danger.

She stood up, and dusted the remnants off her limbs. She lifted her head and looked across at the horizon where the sun was slowly making its way down, slanting her eyes every so slightly, capturing the dimming rays between her eyelids.
She nodded her silent promise to return, and slowly made her way back to wherever the road led.