Alone isn’t the right word,
Dear.
Lonely is perhaps the right word,
Love.
And you fill me up with your kind woods.
And you make me dance with your stories-
And you make me glimmer with your interest.
He cares.
He does.
I fall asleep with a smile.
He doesn’t know me.
He doesn’t understand me.
I wake up with a frown.
I run,
I jump into the waves,
and swim so far away.
This is my loneliness-
Its my garb.
It’s my tower.
Mine, not yours.
Me, not you.
But you recognize yourself in my faltering smile.
But you recognize yourself in my uneven words.
But you recognize yourself in my bittersweet tears.
Two weatherbeaten travelers.
Sharing a story by the campfire.
Sharing a prayer around dawn.
Sharing a wordless longing.
But dear,
I am not yours.
But dear,
You are not mine.
We belong to ghosts.
We belong to the departed.
We don’t even belong to ourselves.
Love,
Hush, it’ll be aright.
Hush, I pray that you find love.
Hush, this story isn’t ours.
I am not your gentle crutch.
You are not my pretty illusion.
Your arms cannot hold me.
My heart cannot contain you.
The waves lapping at my feet.
The wind tearing at my heart.
Tears making my smile shine.
Like a beacon of hope.
Like a steady lighthouse.
Like a fading signal fire.
Fading…
The warm comforter,
in tatters.
The delicate sparkler,
and darkness.
The soothing echo,
and silence.
And you are the one who waited.
The rain beating on your face,
Your body merging to that bench.
The darkness covering your loyalty.
Dear,
let us shake hands with a blessing .
let us take the path that calls us.
let us belong to our own solitude.
Fare thee well.
Layla Ali Sultan 