Sunday, 5 July 2009

--The rain started--

I don't know how not to let
infatuation obfuscate
my vision, misted from the first moment
you pressed
your hand
into mine
(so soft)
and smiled

Hands
Lips
Eyes

I lay open this wager
to anyone claiming rationality:
that should they,
just for some short seconds,
become me (no, really)
see you as right now I see,
would find themselves no longer free
to claim refuge with reason.
Fingers pricked, bleeding, would turn,
leave this Zuleikha to her fallacy.

My will lies fathoms deep
no chance of breath.
Patient (almost) unto death.
Faith forming bubbles of hope
drifting to the surface.

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