That could have been.

That could have been.

The strings are rusty and fingers numb,
but I sing for you my bewildered one,
with a heavy heart and a trembling voice,
under the shade of this starry night,

I sing for a world that could have been.

On the moonlit rooftop,
beneath the cloudy canvas,
I knit a river of words unspoken,
meanwhile passes a shooting star,

and I wish for a world that could have been.

-Saif.

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3 am.

3 am.

It’s 3 am and my eyes don’t close.
It’s 3 am and the tears don’t come.
Dry is the well and empty the chest.
It’s 3 am and I’m dead.

-Saif.

 

Blood and glass.

Blood and glass.

Shattered glass and broken lamps,
walls painted scarlet,
a fire that roars in a world that crumbles.

Amidst it all,
is a soul so desolate,
stuck beneath the weight of all he once cherished.

As his body melts like wax,
pain is not what hurts,
it’s the epiphany that he never once lived.

-Saif.

“I prefer having nightmares than pleasant dreams.” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“I’d rather wake up from a nightmare than wake up into one.” she replied.

-Saif.

Stain

Stain

Coffee beans and fresh paper,
autumn leaves on the sunkissed grass.
Balmy winds and shining faces,
dulcet footsteps on the brick roads.
Lives so lilt,
in a world so bucolic.
I am but a stain in a universe so rich.

-Saif.

Savior

Savior

Lying here looking at the oh so glum a sky,
a cigarette in my hand and a pen in the other.
Looking for something,
what? I don’t know,
your name in the sky?
or maybe a shooting star?

but please not this complete nothingness,
not this deafening silence.

Anything to call a sign,
anything to calm this storm in my heart.
The storm that you created,
with its winds so strong and the rain so thick.

All I need is a savior,
to save me from you.

but how I wish that savior was you.

-Saif.