Malak El Halabi

Like a tenacious ivy, your presence clings onto the drab wall of my existence. Cling harder onto me love, like a blood sucking bed-bug who is never satiated.

You are the Arabian stallion that neighs on the crossroad of my heart ache covering me with the dust of my own ardor.

He says "You are my property" and I feel relieved. After all, no one wishes to shatter what he owns.

When the wind blows in your face,when you feel you are losing your head,when the going gets tough,and when all else fails,look inside you,you are not alone.

Count your salted wounds then name themlike the stars of a bright constellationCount your scars and bruises then give themthe wings of forgiveness to fly

I didn't sleep all night, thinking. I thought about you, about those puppy eyes you give me, when you fake your sadness to make me smile-- and that upper lip of yours that brings life to all of my senses. I thought about your laughter when you get tickled, and that soft mellow place near your arm pit that I wish could be knit into a pillow for me to hug all night long. I thought about your stomach, your soft and sensitive stomach, scared like a baby kitten under the pouring rain. And I remembered the feeling of protection that comes washing over me when I get a glimpse of it, the feeling of covering it with the layers of my very own skin. I remembered your head when it rests on my heart, a rock sheltering itself on the verdure of infinity. I remembered your silky black hair, and how I never imagined that hair curls so thin could twirl, in the way they do, the rigid core of my existence.

The sea is in your eyes. Your face is an eternal summer. Whoever told you otherwise is a fool!

You have the body of a god and the smile of a demon. I walk towards you, barefoot, a believer walking a religious path. I wrap my arms around your neck, a priest hugging his crucifix. I offer you my all. Burn me like incense. Let's make all the church bells in hell ring just for us.

Build my night with your cheeks.

No one made sense of the love they shared. They didn't get the hang of it either. But together, the clocks of winter stopped.. And autumn's fallen leaves turned, swiftly, scarlet.

You don't need an ocean to feel like you're drowning. You feel it, between your chest and your throat, the weight of it stretching you outside your self, like a dead fish on the shore.

You have the face of a man who gently caresses field flowers and dandelions. And a smile that is like a dagger, cutting the sun in halves.

He wasn't like those handsome men you see on the fashion billboards. He was handsome in a rugged way like a wood cutter with an unkept beard or a man who just finished fixing the engine of his car, wiping his oily hands over his white flannel shirt. Like a man who knows that he has starry eyes that can bring stars closer but doesn't even bother to look.

There are people that damage you for life. The day they walked into your life will forever be a turning point you will use to label and count your years with... Your own BC and AD.

And then there are those you stop counting the years with because they are here to stay.They are here. And they aren't going anywhere.Nothing will make them flinch.Nothing will make them think twice.They know you at your worst,the worst you didn't even know you had.They know the sound of your mood swings, the color of your anger, how you curse when you curse, how you shout when you throw a tantrum. They know when you're avoiding a subject. They know when you're lying. They know when you're jealous. They know your vices by heart and they celebrate them. They celebrate you-- vices included.They know your lost dreams and how life fucked you over. They know the battles you lost. And they think your fabulous when you think you're just an unlucky mediocre person who once thought will make it big in life.They know the last time you were happy. They see the unspoken sadness in your eyes. They know the words behind your silence. They know the photographs playing in your mind when you're looking afar.They know YOU, the naked YOU, the raw YOU, not the embellished YOU people see, not the YOU that will be read in biographies or in elegies once you're dead, not the YOU that introduces you to others.They love you from the bottom of their heart. They are your family regardless of their blood. They are your squad. They are your people.And no matter how many times you make them open the door, they can't walk out. They just can't. Because, just sometimes, when people say forever, they mean it. They do.

There are people you meet that light the darkest corners of your mind. They don't ask you questions. They don't intimidate you. They just look at you and they smile. They smile because they know what it feels like to have been where you are or because they have this inner ability to understand where you are coming from. They don't hold your hand. They don't hug you. They don't tell you it's going to be okay or shower you with words of love. They give you some of their time and a bit of their presence. And something only few people really master:To listen genuinely to what you have to say.

You taste like the last drop of whiskeyat 3 amafter a lousy daylike the first gulp of coffee on a Monday sipped behind a deskhot and bitterlike the burning at the back of the throatafter the first cigaretteYou taste, boy oh boy, like my next mistake.

There was warmth in his large piercing brown eyes. The kind of warmth that tucks a child into bed. The same kind of warmth that dries your wet hair on a rainy December afternoon.