remember when you read
me a nazm about human connection?
i did not ask you but i kept thinking
if human suffering could take up space,
would it cover the distance between our hands?
(i think it would)
rumi had said, from a distance
we could only see light in people.
and let me tell you i see galaxies
colliding inside your ribcages
with bob dylan classics
as background score.
to the rhythm of
i-wasn’t-born-to-lose-you,
i dig my way through
your galaxy so desperately
that it makes my heart
feel claustrophobic
inside my own body.
so i drink in sunshine which is identical
to your presence. and glow like split
stars that are shoved inside your gut.
you have crescent moon for eyesโ
heavy with incompleteness
and heartache. and i address
all my love poems to you
with hope of completing you
a little- tucked between my fingers
where i lightly hold my pen,
where your hands should be.
i put them in the pocket
of an old biege shirt that hangs
behind my bedroom door.
when i think of peaceful places,
i think of your hands that are not
big enough to hold all the love
you embodyโso you give some
to everyone in brown paper bags.
when memory floods my bosom
and drench my heart, i wear
my dull shirt, gulp down
a mouthful of lovesick air,
write you another letter
and place it in my chest pocket
which is close to my heart-
where you are.
Instgram led you here. 