love is a wretched wretched thing
—Brian Gyamfi
memory is a mystery that drags
you to the truth you’ve shrouded
your entire life.
I’ve always known love
as suicidal — a cross too heavy
for the heart to bear. in Arabic, when someone’s
entire being fascinates you; you
screw I love you & say تقبرني: bury me. ya3ni: a
world without you, my love, is not worthy of me.
ya3ni: i love you in every impossible way.
ya3ni: anyone ever worth loving is worth dying for.
i don’t have the words, but i love you;
i love you in spite of my terrors and the toll
it has taken on my suspended life.
worry
kills the soul, exhaustion wearies the body, anxiety
messes with the head
what i’m saying, habibti, is:
this could have been a love poem, but what flower
blooms from the soils of a doomed land?
