sometimes it occurs to me,
that we died many days
for the little days we are going to
get together.

we should eat our dinners,
pray our gods, wash the dishes,
walk the dogs, and dream our dreams
in mad love.

-

noor, refuse to be the darkness
you went through.
be the light you prepared for.
be the might that led you to it.

if people are going to name you anyway.
be a witch. be magic.

-

to wrong a woman with her rights
is to accept the fear that if she gets
to, she'd burn the men in the room
alive. there's no fire here. it's not about ashes.

-

perhaps, we talk of love
more than anything else is
because we are all afraid of
becoming our mothers.

we don't want to be her.
we don't fear our love.
we fear our hearts with it.

-

what struck me was his eyes.
so brown. so full of possibilities.
like dreams of rome, promise
to walk love home.
what struck me was how
much i wanted to see myself in them.

-

and if life is a stage,
am i dancing alright?
am i dancing enough?
am i there yet?

-

my gods envy you, they must envy you.
to be shown out of their homes, and be
replaced- to be in my shoes finally and
still be devoid of you.

-

for the most part, noor
i was proud of the hurt.
i was wearing what could kill me
and it looked avant garde.
it didn't cover my cold, noor
but it did it for the lonely part.

hurt isn't so bad, noor.
forgive and take the power.
polish your nails.
clean your boots.
the blood should mirror on their face.
bite the sun, noor,
don't regret wearing your hurt,
hat, and cologne bravely.

-

-

there are days when
you're locked inside my head.
in a good way though.
you're stuck. like a song.
playing till midnight.
i wake up humming its tunes.
you're in my blood,
more like, you're my blood.
i chip my skin,
before it heals.
you're the book
i go back to for lessons.
good songs can be sad.
pain can be meaningful.

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