You'll have a daughter someday. She'll be your heart, your soul—you'll be so wrapped around her finger, you'll start to believe her skin is your skin. She'll exist in every crevice, every corner. She'll be your world, and you'll find existence meaningless without her.
Fatherhood will be the only thing that will bring you more joy than being a husband.
That daughter will remind you of someone someday. She'll exist as a stark replication of her—the girl before the wife. The one you let go before you met the one. The last woman standing before marriage whisks you away to a life without any trace of her.
And it'll chill you.
You won't know why. You won't know how. But you will know this: any semblance of that woman through your daughter will knock the wind right out of your lungs. Your veins will run dry, and time will stop just like it did the day you realized she was never coming back.
Because you left her.
It'll baffle you: you'll swear you witnessed your wife give birth to this child. You'll be ready to proclaim that you saw your little princess tear out of her mother's body. Crying and wailing murder to make her place in the world. You'll take an oath to bear testament that she is yours—equal parts you and your wife.
Yet, the day will freeze when your daughter laughs like her, snickering and covering her mouth before she begins hollering in pure amusement. You'll notice your daughter begin to express a certain infatuation with anything that has glitter, or the rainbow, or a reference to horror movies. You'll find her. You'll find her within your child.
The clock will begin ticking again. This was the greatest psychological time machine you'd ever known.
Because your body may age with the present, but some part of you was always left there. Because you left a piece of you with her as a haunting possession. Because the woman really did come back.
Or perhaps she never really left. Either way, your memory kept her alive.
You'll watch her grow—your daughter, expanding that deep-rooted stubbornness within her. Your daughter will pen miracles into poems. You'll read the words. You'll remember. It'll all come back to you.
Her blood on paper will mirror blood you've read before. Because you caused the bleeding. You twisted the knife. Her blood kept you eternal in the soil of those pages.
It won't stop there. Your daughter will begin to enjoy coffees at night. She'll be smitten by psychology, beg you to adopt more than one cat. She'll be obsessed with sharks and dinosaurs. Her neurodivergence will spill beyond her room and take over your home.
But the walls of your heart won't crack. The furniture in your mind will lay in dust. In fact, each plate set on the table of your cognition will remain exactly as it was—because they've seen this film before. They wrote the script. They know the ending.
This was the first audience you rehearsed for. The first ones to applaud the facade of you, your performance.
Your daughter will make you proud. She'll excel at her education, she'll flourish in her career. She'll have a strong sense of justice and a highly empathetic temperament. And she'll use it to help her community. And her community will thrive because of it.
Your little princess will age into a woman who will curse with such intensity that it'll make sailors drown their ships in shame. She'll be rigid in certain matters, no matter how much she needs to compromise. She'll hate certain foods, rewatch the same TV shows, won't be so extroverted, deny your spontaneity with excuses of laziness, and will be perfectly content with a small, intimate group of friends.
And you'll wake one night, startled and jolted, sweat beading on your forehead. A stupor shaken beyond comprehension. Your wife will bring you water, but you won't have it in you to confess that no water in the world could quench the thirst of guilt that keeps your throat dry. She'll massage your shoulders, but it won't truly register. You never felt comfort after you untied your end of the enmeshment.
Because somewhere out there was her.
Her.
With her jokes and sarcasm and self-deprecating humor.
Her curiosity and collection of insignificant fragments of life.
Her ability to notice even the smallest details about you.
The purest soul you've ever known.
The humility with which she carried herself.
The chaos of her anxiety and overthinking and constant alertness.
Her days of masking pain, etched like artifacts on her bones, and nights of simply trying to survive.
Her quiet decision to never bring a child—no, a daughter—into this world, terrified she would be broken by a man just like you.
The magnitude of strength it took her to keep those unborn children in her imagination so that her little girl doesn't succumb to a boy like you, and her son doesn't grow into an angry man that hates the woman he loves.
Her and the grief you surrendered, abandoned to her responsibility, sacrificing the realest connection you've ever known.
Her, and your daughter just like her.
Her.
Because a girl like her exists. And that will mean somewhere out there, there will be a boy.
A boy like you.
A son.
Someone's son will come into your daughter's life. Someone's son will charm her and earn her trust.
Someone's son will keep her loyalty hostage. Someone's son will make your daughter fall madly in love with him.
Someone's son who was bound to curse her fate.
To translate her love into mourning.
And this will be the reality which no amount of water will help go down your throat. This will be a person who'll leave markings on your daughter's tombstone. He'll bring riches with the pearls of her tears. He'll collect her peaceful slumber. He'll scar your daughter so mercilessly, she'll never be the same again.
With his empty words and even emptier promises. With his captivating smile and a prowess to gain your daughter's obsession.
You won't be able to save your precious child when the oncoming train of him ties her to the tracks. You'll recognize the dance of avoidance, remember the lyrics of attachment.
You were once the choreographer. The songwriter.
But your body won't move, you won't be able to sing along.
Because you'll be left speechless, just like you left her. You'll stay stagnant, just like you stagnated her.
You might have been the expert of the skies and seas. But here on land you'll watch his planes of accountability take flight. You won't be able to swim to her sinking ships.
It's heavy to be on the other side, isn't it? The helplessness when flights of hope catch fire and crash. When the anchors of trust don't save but drown.
You may have killed someone in a different lifetime. But in this one, you'll witness another die again and again.
And you'll swear you aren't living a nightmare.
You'll cross your heart and really will hope to die.
Because if she haunts your living room, exists as your daughter, brings rebirth to her tragedy—then somewhere out there will be him.
there's things I want to say to you
but I'll just let you live
because I've forgiven, not forgotten, the men who've hurt me
and you aren't the first man who ever did
[2]
cortisol is our drug, our alcohol
of psychological baggage and intense intimacy
our fears of the unknown make us reach for it all
like rebelling against humanity is what truly set us free
[3]
the last man I did this for
was a poem of haunting emotional one-night stands
enmeshment has me sleeping with different feelings every night, like a whore
what was I supposed to do - with you, there was no footing on which I could land
[4]
how it began with sex, and trauma, and coffee, and whipped cream
and unraveled into years' worth of a relationship in just weeks
sitting in the crowd observing the matches of the child-rearing versus the child-free
because moving slowly isn't traditional for Pakistanis
[5]
it became evident that you and I didn't live, only survived
through staggering and stuttering relationships
grieving parents: one alive and one who died
holding onto one another with pinky-promised friendships
[6]
long-distance, legal battles
neurodivergent brains
Californian crusades and Canadian castles
families that drive us insane
[7]
these poems aren't messages in a bottle
hoping the oceans will take them your way
poetry is to me what logic was to Aristotle
this place is a home for my words, and these words keep me sane
[8]
looking at each other
was like reflecting off the mirrors of our past
avoidants hide from battle, and the anxious are spared once the war is over
it was an abuse of our hopes, thinking this would last
[9]
the delusion that came with your emotional safety
crafted from the hearts you drew for me in your shower steam
thinking that once the fog cleared, you'd come running home to me
only to be surrounded by the echo of water droplets evaporating as i watched you leave
[10]
i wish I had never known your name
and kept addressing you with different names instead
i wish my name couldn't be crafted out of your name
now I wish both our names were dead
[11]
I write a litany of abuse to fill the blanks in our sentences
to make sense of the emptiness in my life story
I've forged characters out of your silence
because we're deeply unwell, but I must move on to finally heal
[12]
I force myself to accept that you're gone
and to love you means I have to let you go
clinging to hope that detachment will leave this matter one and done
I am just one person, I can't carry both of our ghosts
[13]
fully in the nude
we bore our minds, bodies, and souls
the violence with which this emotional vulnerability concludes
as our Titanic sinks, you're the iceberg, and I never made it to the rescue boat
[14]
your armies of rejection
my battleships of defeat
firing the arrows of communication
stabbed by the swords of you leaving me
[15]
the tears won't leave my eyes
so i pour the floodgates of feelings here
while the steam of your departure dies
may the fog clouds my judgment, so I don't have to watch you disappear
[16]
the authorities of my heart
no longer put up flyers of a missing person's report
and the detectives of my mind confirm the dreaded part
of no remains or a discovered dead body, yet the news declares you no more
[17]
I remember small details
as the hearts on the glass shatter away
the shards declare to my blood the end of a fairytale
the cutting edges reveal to the widow that her coward has passed away
[18]
and I've always been a criminal
forever breaking the laws of attachment
so my maladaptive daydreams conjure narratives so fictional
that they turn you into nightmares of eternal torment
[19]
all those fantasies
paint you a remarkable villain and scratch me off as the victim
but embedded in this actuality
are questions to answers that will never be written
[20]
in telling you that there was no pressure
the force began to suffocate me
a month was too long to decipher future measures
the wait imploded my lungs as I sank in too deep
[21]
so my mind gave me two ultimatums
either you went back to her, or you took your own life
as always, when it got too much, I went numb
how tragic it is that the woman who tried to kill you was the one who almost became your wife
[22]
thinking your yearning planes crashed into her again
the debris was flying and grazing me
the wreckage of your quiet makes fabrications seem so certain
you took flight from a runway that only wanted to keep you steady
[23]
maybe my tears watered your land
and i burned to keep your house warm
perhaps the wind from my lungs would help you withstand
quakes of the earth with unpredictable storms
[24]
the fact remains that the boy who drew hearts on my glass
the one who begged me to stay a few more minutes on the phone
turned into the man who broke and stabbed me with the same glass
and revealed himself as a being of stone
[25]
the very glass that was your canvas of love
was shattered to fashion shards into a weapon of neglect
no celebrations where we free marital doves
just cremations of wedded potential left completely wrecked
[26]
now I wish I had stayed on those calls a little longer
the ones where I rushed to say goodbye
you told me to say it again in a voice fonder
and I foolishly forgot that clouds always return to colored skies
[27]
yet I hold onto hope that the skies of all my colors
fill the canvas of stained glass in your cathedral
my wings clipped to whiten the dress of your lover
your urban days no longer tainted by my nights staying rural
[28]
i didn't need you perfect
i didn't need you healed
i gambled with fate, hoping this was worth it
only to find out that the cruelest deal dealt was the one on me
[29]
you are bankrupt
you cannot pay me any emotional currency
and my abandonment funds wounds so corrupt
that I can't even loan you the indebted parts of me
[30]
i know you dedicate songs to her that have become my reality
two sirens are calling you in love and lust
same appearances, different personalities
but there is only one voice of melody you can trust
[31]
until I don't have your loyalty
until I'm not a priority
you don't get to lick away whipped delicacies from my body
which you keep burning with pain to flavor your morning coffees
[32]
you really expect to confess your sins and reveal your secrets
of grief, and death, and self-hatred, and intimacy
and then have the audacity to say I'm not ready for a relationship
I'm not some apathetic reverend, taking the burden off of you when you order, don't fall in love with me
[33]
during those late nights when I said you needed sleep
and you'd say sacrificing it all was worth it
proclaiming what you truly needed was me
and that you'd risk it all because having me made up for losing all of it
[34]
I heard your voice of enticement on the phone
witnessed you expose yourself for the sake of bonding
I bore myself just as much to touch you to the bone
but all I smell is the decay of what once tasted like care concealed as love-bombing
[35]
almost like friends with benefits
almost like situationships
all without the commitment of a relationship
all with the bonds of codependents
[36]
this mutual wreckage should've birthed a united shelter
turned this house into a home
but you took the train with a one-way ticket to someone better
and now I search for the casualties of us all alone
[37]
saying we aren't lovers
but acting as such
is like presenting a depetalled flower
and still calling it too much
[38]
you gave verbal warnings
but did everything to make this grow
and one can't help wondering
was this a ticking time bomb waiting for me to blow
[39]
you started a fire, not expecting me to spark
i watch you evaporate in slow motion
it's my spark that guided you out of the dark
now our borders are separated by silent lamenting oceans
[40]
there is a personal mosque I've built within my heart
where my soul only prays for your sacred being
leaving you to the unknown of God's art
where He may have destined us as muses, but for different artists' paintings
[41]
this is how I put pen to paper
this is where I bury the words so they don't rot
a broken man can never equal me as a warrior
especially when the broken woman is the one he forgot
[42]
the illnesses we hide
in bruised and battered physical frames
don't do justice to the mess that's overflowing from inside
so the outside manifests into psychosomatic chronic pain
[43]
i know she shattered your blueprint for life
she broke your foundation for love
the next girl you mustered the courage to talk to came from some random website
but in the background, her ghost still lingered as the one
[44]
there is a collision of history on the freeway
and both of us suffocate in the car crash
history isn't remembered by facts, but by ones privileged to narrate
and you narrated that this crashed love would make the destruction pass
[45]
for a second, time stopped, and you made me halt
and I could finally let go and breathe
surviving to living became a privilege I had always lost
who knew I had to heal from the one who healed me
[46]
I respected you, so I thought you'd depart like a man with honor
and it would've hurt, but the ache wouldn't have stayed
the striking of a month's clock cemented every horror
doesn't matter who was black or white, everything is now grey
[47]
perhaps the two of us are the moon
going through phases of emptiness to feel full today
perhaps the two of us are the rising and setting of the sun, too
returning with light every day, come what may
[48]
so i guess this is how our story ends
no more mid-work texts or late-night phone calls
the last you'll hear from me will be on November twenty-second
where I'll bring up those pictures and ask you to delete them all
[49]
fantasy is often safer than intimacy
because imagination doesn't ask us to change
but you were a faith for which I was willing to leap
forgetting my afflictions came with a limited range
[50]
you need to leave from my enemy lines
before my demons move the conquests through
hurry and depart with one fundamental truth in mind
if the roles were reversed, I would have never done the same to you
[51]
people always told me I understood things well
that I heard the words they couldn't say
but who do I go and tell
that I heard I love you when you asked me to stay
[52]
are the unspoken words in your silence weaponized
were all the signals mixed
was every view of you romanticized
where our stars are just passing by a once-in-a-lifetime eclipse
[53]
the distance has become so much more than geographical
I can't seem to land anywhere as the wings of flight spark
can you blame me for being so cynical
when I've lost a friend like you to the dark
[54]
so I go to the ocean, hoping to drown the grief
but I find it overflowing with the loss of you
and I'm left standing on your shore with these tears
and no amount of depth could understand what I had to lose
[55]
when I go to scatter your ashes from the highest mountain peak
i find there isn't a single one I could climb
that would burn the cremation of you away from me
suddenly jumping from your cliffs seems just fine
[56]
I am paying the cost of your drunken boredom
I am tending to your psychological hangover
because a previous life's girl ran over your kingdom
and I was shot when you aimed for her codependent closure
[57]
I've been the predator
I've been the prey
I've been the most devout lover
who could never make anyone stay
[58]
you showed me colors, you know I can't see with anyone else
you sang me a melody, you know I can't hear with anyone else
you taught me a secret language, you know I can't speak with anyone else
because you know damn well, you know all too well, I wouldn't ruin myself for anybody else
[59]
and i watch the hearts fade
I see the boy wipe them away
because what's covered by condensation is never meant to stay
and girls like me are foolish for thinking of it any other way
[60]
the girl in me sits in the playground after kindergarten
hoping her friend will soon come out to play
but the pure and the humble are rarely pardoned
so all they can do is surrender with their heads bent down to pray
[61]
she was your past, I am your present
which woman holds the key to your future
the girl you almost asked, the girl you currently rent
which woman holds the devices to dissolve your sutures
[62]
was I a parallel line
with you side by side but we'll never meet
was she an intersection for both destinies at one time
passing you by only to take another forever street
[63]
I tell my patients that mental illness isn't a lottery ticket to hurt others
you crashed and were in a crisis I was prepared to handle
there is only so much I can do when your crash was headed for another
and now guilt chokes me when I realise that a man with debilitating health left me entangled
[64]
it isn't my responsibility
to teach you basic respect and romantic etiquette
you're a grown man, take accountability
that you failed the audition for which you wrote the script
[65]
you can't even pass your own screenplays
why should I have to stand trial
my worth can't be measured by any enmeshed scale
even if legal consequences are what you make my marital aisle
[66]
there was no place for your pain
so I mapped you onto my world
even when my mother criticized you, I took the blame
despite the red flags she observed
[67]
I was blindsided by the vacuum you left behind
the echoes of my bewilderment continue
of grief, love, and the pleading to survive
the blank space rotates around your unending trauma loop
[68]
I'll survive you like I did my parents
you aren't my worst tragedy
I have lived feeling absent in the world's most astounding presences
and I flourish when it comes to self-mutiny
[69]
I'll medicate with masterlists to save my nervous system
because you cannot cope with your existence
you can't face reality, how will you tolerate a long-distance commitment
it's not my problem that this blog makes you take offense to facts finally being written
[70]
you were red
and you liked me because I was blue
you touched me, and we became a lilac sky
but suddenly, you realised purple wasn't the color for you
[71]
i may go on about the would've, could've, should've
but these emotions help me write the narrative away from you
because there was growth in this, there must have
but growth can come from oblivion too
[72]
in the literal alphabet of your existence,
I have been woven into you
your name always came with a culpable resistance
and now it hurts because someone tore me out of you
[73]
your cages of unpreparedness protect you
but all they did was imprison me in your forces
the agony of betrayal didn't faze you
you forget that even my closet has its fair share of corpses
[74]
you may not be as malicious as him, but you aren't that different
from past lovers or my father, it doesn't matter whether you're 25 or 50
just born or rejected from the gateways of heaven
you all choose the cowardice of walking away without caring for the ones you're hurting
[75]
you all fashion yourselves as saints
but truly, all you men are hypocrites
always intimidated by the honor of a feminine taint
you'd rather be shameless and play games for the love of it
[76]
you cannot break a window
then get mad at the house for letting the cold air in
or leave someone to freeze in the snow
then criticize them for seeking shelter in someone else's cabin
[77]
I admit, I ran past the red light of trafficked trauma you put up
but you forget that your car rear-ended mine
the damage had screeched until it hit a tremendous halt
we were bound to cross pedestrian lines
[78]
I admit, I accelerated a fake sense of security
but you didn't have to play the bodyguard
with his guns and tasers, claiming to protect me
keeping me from observing the dead bodies you buried in your backyard
[79]
my mother claims I've made several mistakes
which I find are rather untrue
the only mistake I made was trusting a snake
whose words over actions of venom were a trap I'd fallen into
[80]
and one day, when you sign off your nikah to your bride
and when you look in her eyes and say, I do
don't you dare avert your eyes
from the shadow of my dried tears, looking right at you
[81]
when i saw signs of your safety tracing back to when i last spoke to you
it was the exact moment the Hira built for you suffocated and died
because a man who can read the pain that he caused and just continue
is a threat that returns with weaponized excuses and lies
[82]
I don't wish you hell
the dwellers of the fire pit suffer enough to deal with the likes of you
but I still can't go against wishing you well
so I'll house your flames that burned my home by a man I thought I knew
[83]
i wanted to exorcise this haunted house, but exorcisms are built for demons
my ghosts have no use in avenging what doesn't exist
they have made peace with the truth of us and moved on from your lessons
you're free to stay and haunt this place as a lonesome hedonist
[84]
your bombs going off in this international defiance weren't a suicide mission
you remained, intending to witness my world's homicide
you couldn't stomach that my illnesses can fade into remission
so you did the one thing you knew how: to run away to a fool's paradise
[85]
as the detonations go off, my ears ring, and the demolished building scrapes my eyes
my limbs may not be there, my emotions have exploded, and I am numb
martyrdom has never felt this good, even at the hands of someone so vile
the belief that I was safe with you took its last breath, even if my death affected no one
[86]
let the memory of you stay a daydream
because otherwise you'll be grouped with the worst people in my reality
the rawest you is someone I'll waste a lifetime forgetting
so I bury you like a passed-away pet, underneath the shadow of a grieving childhood tree
[87]
fighting your war came with dead guardians and too many legalities
lost lovers and debts which even my blood couldn't pay out
so when I gazed at you for battled support, you had fled the scenes even terrorists have the chivalry to sacrifice themselves, loyalty evident as they bleed out
[88]
there is only so much time I can spend wailing in this chasmic dirge of death
filling the void where you have left all deficits
you walked away from concluding a story where promises remained unkept
I refuse to wither away my conscience for a man who denies being a degenerate
[89]
choosing to confront you or leave you alone
is like an addict choosing between an overdose or poison
I'll have to pick the one that kills this version of me that waits by the phone
and feeds the empty space you left with far-fetched illusions
[90]
4th of July comes, and your fireworks steal the color from my skies my stars lighten your world, while I fail to navigate an immortal blackout
reviving your hope as my galaxies die
unsure if my body can once again survive an apathetic drought
[91]
I am not Hiroshima, Nagasaki, or Chernobyl
I do not hold onto radiation like you for years to come
my trees don't bend to nuclear cowardice, and remain fertile
my land can begin anew, regardless of the scarcity even in your breadcrumbs
[92]
you were never served your romantic justice
so you carry resentment even stronger than the likes of Hades
and I was coping with my life just fine despite every winter and summer solstice
but you couldn't have peace until you took it from the poetic eroticism of Persephone
[93]
the abuser, the abandoner, the avoidant
take a gamble and guess which one you are
if you confirm or deny them as idle accusations while poignant
you'll understand why your trifecta had to end in war
[94]
we have to be archived in history books, so love never tarnishes from our fame
because love stories across the world have ended in tragedies
Romeo and Juliet, Shah Jahan and Mumtaz, Laila and Majnu, Antony and Cleopatra, even the story in our names
I refuse to be associated with someone so spineless that I am remembered as a malady
[95]
magicians may vanish, but they always return in due time
so congratulations for pulling off this effortless ambush
boast your trophies at the risk of my empathy's genocide
I'll wear the medals of honor of having survived another hard truth
[96]
my father cheated on my mother
just like the love of your life cheated too
an endless pit of one cheating on another
but the most deceptive infidelity of all was how you cheated on you
[97]
i am a keen reader
but I won't waste literary skills on authors who refuse to complete their books
who leave chapters mid-sentence, who cannot even word speeches like leaders
and think they could dodge crimes based on good looks
[98]
good looks which were reflected in a mirror I held
a reflection you carried so much hatred towards, you broke the glass
but I can still love in bleeding magnitudes, a renowned rebel
your sharded explosives left your lands with dying grass
[99]
your avoidance makes you appear small
and my anxiousness makes me seem big
you run away with self-worth so minuscule
yet I finish what you started with by binge-eating resilience to stay massive
[100]
you threw me off your cliff into man-eater-infested waters
you don't get to decide how I swam out
my nose floats above your voluntary manslaughter
and it kills you when Narcissus' reflection is mirrored as a fugitive copout
[101]
how can you ever do long-distance
when the man in a body of six foot two lives life in such a small proximity
these poems are an artifact of survival, not projection
especially when you couldn't trust the world I built you for safety
[102]
go ahead, throw away the keys
the cages you construct as defenses will always set you free
but I play the offense and no cage of yours can imprison me
even if I have to bite the metallic bars, bearing my drool-dripping teeth
[103]
I died at the altar, but I'm the runaway bride
I'm the mermaid that got away
fear the time you'll be crucified
your Canadian islands only exist because I've kept my Californian seas at bay
[104]
I should've known while you kept making hearts after wiping the screen
she was the one fogging it in resentful breath
until the steam cleared and I gave myself up for ransom to save a kidnapping unforeseen
but wasting the money of loyal investment had me seething like Lady Macbeth
[105]
I love horror movies, but you aren't worth terrorizing
though my shadow will exist in all your realities
I'll sit at every table with your guilt uprising
a hallucination that will have your lover question if you're sane mentally
[106]
you couldn't lose something for me
you couldn't handle me either
you couldn't risk something for me
because your arrogance feasted enough on this pathological people pleaser
[107]
I may not be a man, but my masculinity is greater than yours
I may not be an animal, but my tail doesn't cower between my legs like yours
I may not be the best writer, but my characters don't run from my texts like yours
and I may not be healed, but my mental illnesses don't leave me paralyzed like yours
[108]
flourish with the delusion that none of this was your fault
go ahead and live your life
you'll never truly grasp the onslaught you've caused
but I know the real you without having to skin you alive
[109]
you've decided that accountability without consequence
are worth more than the sanity of a woman who loved you
you'll do anything to ignore your ridiculous nonsense
you carry no shame in the emptiness with which you withdrew
[110]
some people hit you where it hurts
some people go straight for the jugular
but there's certain men who enjoy the torture until their victim's sanity bursts
and then there's the men that surpass even the likes of Lucifer
[111]
and when I am gone and dead
when they have lowered me in my grave and walked away
when the dust settles after the funeral on our deceased bed
even the soil will taste the love for you that I could never give away
[112]
I weave the architecture of my grief into each stanza
everything seems to carry an intense emotional weight
old-soul yearning only invites an autoimmune massacre
you knew I was simple, I should've seen beyond nirvana to find your open bait
[113]
the trust has been executed
ashes suffocating a united monument as hope is cremated
we failed surviving the test of time, I can't fathom that we failed it
heartbreaking dignity is all that is worth saving from being annihilated
[114]
there is catharsis in knowing men never had power
so they resurface to hunt for slaves
but women break their spines and become the backbone to empower
and that's why men stay haunted beyond the grave
[115]
I know it takes a village to raise a child
and an army to save homelands
what does it take to save a woman from the likes of Anne-Boleyn and Salem witches' exile
when she loses generations within her because of a wicked man's wicked plans
[116]
you're no longer my muse
your eternal ink has faded from the blood-stained pages of my poems
I've finished my penmanship in immortalizing you
a character who had it all but lost something infinitely golden
[117]
independence day has arrived
I'm no longer a teenager dying at the seams
I'm a Pakistani, of course the nation within me will survive
and every year I shall celebrate July thirteenth
[118]
what a privilege to have such a metamorphosis
to shed the skin that longed to touch you
to grow out my hair and cut the ones stranding you in memory
to grow homes in a new universe, galaxies where shower hearts don't seize my lungs with mildew
[119]
and what a blessing it is to know men for who they are
fueling each other's lonely epidemics as they make women the enemy
living to impress each other at the cost of leaving generational scars
while women move on to find growth in their impossible grief
[120]
in my farewell, I pray you get everything you've wanted
that life frees you and you can finally find peace
i hope your days and nights are no longer haunted
because my cosmos killed themselves when I had to end our story
[121]
gathered here for the holy matrimony of the victim and the villain
i object this alliance, it was never meant to be you
a temporary lesson is not a lover of permanence
you never possessed the basic courage to call it all off, but I do
nine times one equals something new that's begun
a mind vandalized, undone a kingdom come
crevices burying what's now done
tending this cognitive graveyard from which i can't run
who will light up my rainbow when I've lost my sun
May 09
nine times two makes lovers love with something new
foreign skies on which fantasies flew
homelands where unspoken words sprouted in resentment and grew
the planes of potential start to fade out of view
where is the atonement of religious sacrilege where hellfire broke through
June 09
nine times three means lovers set each other free
to numb an ache, to martyr one's humanity, to never feel
where the other pulls the trigger from the guns of ransomed pleas
and confronting the final enemy: the menacing wrath of accountability
the faith i struggle to put in you is retaliated with the disloyalty and dishonesty you put in me
July 09
nine times four concludes with epiphanies of closed doors
of not recognizing each other or our own reflections anymore
simple death would have sufficed but you left me laying in the wreckage of emotional gore
a betrayal no amount of comebacks can restore
how can i believe a single word out of you when you broke the promises by which you swore
August 09
nine times five will bring blessings through distractions in life
i will rebel against and liberate from the identity of a daughter, a sister, a mother, and a wife
i will forget you for rainbow horizons in new skies
i will forgive you for your fabrications and facades and falsehoods of being the nice guy
when i met you, it would've been the end of me, but there is nothing quite like hope in the priceless paradise of saying goodbye
the nurse brings the baby in
the mother anticipates, her heart growing frantic
when the girl is revealed as such, the firstborn of a son, the silence is so loud
the father's being the most deafening one, cementing the celebration as tragic
he is recovering from years worth of heartbreak
until she poses as a distraction on his virtual lifeline
he makes up some flirtatious comment to win her over
the crime of being an anchor for the avoidant, the anxious will eternally serve time
he shuts himself in the bathroom after he comes home from work
as his daughter sits crying for his embrace by the door
he screams for the mother to come get the aggravating thing
but the toddler just wants her father, nothing more
he watches her with warmth on the other side of the screen
they've made his showering in vulnerability their unique, intimate routine
hearts of fingers and on glass etched for her through the steam
and she knew his ritual had started coursing through her bloodstream
through panic-stricken adolescence and finger-trembling adulthood
a familial civil war was raging within closed walls
because the daughter is not as sacrificial or forgiving as her mother
and paternal gaslighting and manipulation are schemes she doesn't fall for
she knows, she feels it, all the signs she learned against her will are there
the foreshadowing cuts through doors and steams, their conversations are faltering
his absence looms over where his presence should have been
mourning the dead is the price she pays for standing on his cliff and falling
it'll hurt until it doesn't, there was no coronation for taking the king's crown
when you entertain women that aren't your daughter or wife
in silent screams and thundering tears she couldn't let the people down
the grief of knowing her father left his family for dead was a demon she'd be possessed by for life
it hurts, it just does, when you're betrayed on enemy lines with hope martyred
she would never be on par with the queen he limerently yearns
her organs bloom flowers as she coughs out bloodied petals
the epiphany of knowing the man she loved left her for dead was an angel disguised as a lesson learned
the bathroom door never opens
the steam clears but he isn't there
her life fogs on the other side of the door
devoid of hearts and glass that remains clear
someone old, someone new
a man across borders borrowed, a father that turned blue
silver sixpences stolen and held in cowering masculine shoes
no man to walk her down the aisle, no boy at the altar in view
a filiarch building dynasties on collapsed patriarchy, a bride sacrificed by her groom
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