"Him" by Abeer Mohamed

She doesn't know

how her femininity lead her to him

him,

the one who with a look

takes her mind off her

and puts his lips on instead

in one tear that is unshed

how much faith did she need,

to resist his look

to be a line in his book

and how much silence did he need

not to be exposed with his exploding fires

like those electrified wires

of hope

him,

the one who knows how to touch a woman

exactly as he knows how to touch the words

with the same hidden burns

holding her from behind

pressing her forward and rewind

just like the way he touches a runaway sentence

with this false laziness

and this neat nastiness

of power

him,

the one whose lips cross her

intentionally slow

with a well defined distance

measured with his existence

that is preserved for excitement

passing by her lips,

without sinking there in a kiss

slipping towards her neck

without touching there in a mess

then they tenderly ascend up

as if he was kissing her with his breathe

just his breathe

a bit slower

him,

the man who sketches her destiny with his lips

write her as his own book

erase her just with one look

how can she forget ?

all that never happened between him and her?

all that is somehow so clear even in a blur

him,

the man of time,comes late

in a retarded hour of the memory

striking her between a let go and the other

setting her nights on fire

then leave

still she would believe

as she rides her insanity to him

she knows,desire has an internal grim

that has no reason

and she screams,

as these savage horses of longing taking her to him

him,

the man of the forgotten time

his love is an enlightening state

that comes in the darkness of senses

to light up its secretive alleys

waking up her unfolded desires

setting it all on burning flames

then leave

"how can i not believe?"

him,

the one she sees,as she settles

in the seat,that is facing his absence

there, where he once sat

opposite to her astonished confession

as she was reloading her first impression

of him

him,

if only he would come

the man of longing time

she is afraid that her joy would tell

after that silence in his absence

that only the black ink would spell

over the virgin sheets

of distance

how much lies does she need

to go on with life as if he didn't come

how much honesty does she need

to convince him,that she really waited only

for him..to come.

if only,

as usual he will pass by her love

and she will not ask him which road he took with the memories

and who lead him to a woman,

who as much as she waited for him

is just not expecting anymore.

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