Skip to main content

Twins

Nīrān


I am fire, she says
And scorches my soul
She looks into my eyes
And the ice in my veins melts
I am fire, she says
And burns my existence
Her whispers are sparks
Her deep sighs, infernos
Her touch turns me to ash
And I fly away with the wind
I am fire, she says
Aatish, Naar, Aag, Nīrān
She says
And whips my heart



Cryonics


We could stay here
Frozen in time
with a single flake of snow,
That would refuse to melt
I would hear you sing
Rumi and Tabraiz
The rain would be music
Your almond eyes
would be candles
We could stay here
frozen in time
holding onto the
fingers of eternity,
I would lean over
Whisper in your ear
And night would never end



--
Nīrān - Arabic for "many fires"

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Some Other Time

 We will be counting days again, till we say hello again— only for us to say goodbye again. We always knew we’d have to say our goodbyes one day. Then why does it hurt so? Even so, when we know it won’t be long before even goodbyes are a luxury. We cling to hopes— that this isn’t the only life we will live. That one day, we will meet again, in some other life, in some other time, where we won’t have to say   G oodbye.
Post a Comment
Read more

Undelivered Package

There is an uprising coming it was supposed to be here yesterday but I suppose it is lost in the mail who do I write to the website had no address only a small warning goods once sold can not be returned maybe I should have known then not to trust Nigerian princes with unclaimed millions and fully functional revolutions leftover from the days of the next war Maybe it is stuck at customs maybe it would have been better to wait for my cousin to travel in, so he could sneak it in packed neatly between airport  toblerone and contraband iphones
Post a Comment
Read more

In Barely Discernible Darkness

I will trace the Jhelum Across Your back with my fingers In barely discernible darkness It will form a paisley Drawn from the memory of An imagined Kashmir No language spoken by Man or Gods shall be Uttered that night Words will be melded, Sentences molded to form A new language of love The ink, a fine powdered Amethyst, shall dry as We write its grammar The quill tips, fashioned From old bones, shall Burn in its blaze The room will be Full of scorch marks In barely discernible darkness -- Tz
1 comment
Read more