RHYME // RAJ BUSHARA

I'm the guilty nights and sorry mornings
he forgotten prayers and reckless emotions
the grieving pens on sad devotions that are lost in the name of revolution
I'm the absent color of the rainbow 
the little girl that before her time was fully grown I'm that little girl's poems

so rhyme me away from reality
closer to fancies
beyond this world's tragedies
rhyme the verbs and nouns
the actions and sounds
rhyme the thousand verses that I've never found but kept living them thousands times around
rhyme the things I know for the things I used to know and all the stuff I'm suppose to know
rhyme me like I'm a pencil that fell in love with a paper and together they rhymed about all the stolen moments of history
rhyme me like the childhood bed time stories like the rhythm of a wild swing-set like the heart beats of that little girl jumping off her school fence
rhyme me like Davincii's fingerprints on Monalisa's smile
like the legends and riddles that never die
rhyme me like the Nile

and write me on the walls of an ancient Egyptian grave
breath and exhale me into an empty space
where I am a fickle artery joined with a lyrical vein
then trigger that poetic gun into my brain
blast my vessels into a rhythmic rain
and rhyme me like I've never felt pain

DAY 3 // HAYAT

in ,

I’ll share a piece of cake with you, call your name differently than I call others’, shake my shoulders indicating the little party in my heart when I look at you whenever we share a glance in a crowded room. 

I’ll make you coffee before I leave for a long day that I have nightmares of, I’ll doodle your curls in class, hum your phone’s ringtone while running errands. 

Such things, certain things that we can survive without but do anyway, like drinking tea in the blue mug only, coffee in the whites. 

I’ll call after I hang up shouting at you to leave me alone, I’ll come back home to you even when I know I’m coming home to a fight, I won’t be upset when you forget that I do all of this for you. 

I’ll leave and come back, I’ll leave for a day and then call in the middle of it to ask you if anyone had made you smile to be jealous for two seconds and make you giggle about it, I’ll leave for a month and ache for weeks, I’ll call you and admit to you my helplessness, I do such things, I don’t leave, I do such things instead.

I’ll love my words more, my solitude, my dawns, my songs, all more than you, sometimes. 

I’ll still come back, I’ll still call back, I’ll still share the last cigarette in the packet with you, I’ll still look at you mid chapter while we’re both reading and smile at you. I will I will I will.