Mahmoud Darwish, If I Were Another
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Mahmoud Darwish, If I Were Another
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a letter to you that you'll never read,
How do I erase someone who is inscribed deep into my bones without risking the entire collapse of my soul? How do I say goodbye to the very person who erected entire cathedrals in my heart and etched roadmaps in my mind that always lead back to you? How do I move forward when my soul cannot stretch far enough without snapping you away from my hope?
I fear I will never get over you... not because it’s impossible, but because my heart refuses to forget your name.
Do you not feel my cries echoing in your soul? Do you not feel my hands feverishly pulling at the cord that connects us, begging for a tug back?
I wish it were as simple as calling myself delusional, but what we had was too real to believe it was all in my head—yet fragile enough to make me doubt the instincts I once bet my life on.
You would think that as time passes, your hold on me would weaken. Sadly for both of us, I have only grown hungrier for the chance to get it right between us.
The truth is, I would wait thousands of years for five more minutes with you, because even if that was all I got, it would feel like heaven. My personal Garden of Eden.
Yet it seems I have been condemned by the very god I prayed to for you.
But I guess you can call me the devil because I would burn it all down if it meant being near you again.
Adrift Mark Nepo
Nikolay Ninov (Bulgarian, b.1973), Butterfly Moon, 2020, Oil on canvas
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