بغض نجیب

بغض نجیب

21 September 2008

*It Finishes Before It Begins

I said to myself:

It always finishes before it has even begun

Like a scoop of ice cream which used to fall off the corn,

from my nerves hand,

when I was a child

.

Or like a balloon

which always manged to escape in front of my wondering eyes,

finding its way through the sky, reaching the clouds

.

Or like an inviting smile

that I always managed to disguise with a bitter frown,

so he could not realise that I loved him

.

I reminded myself of those children

who never let me join their imaginary playful world...

A battle which I am still trying to win

though we are children,

no longer

.

I reminded myself of the first letter,

I ever wrote

The first letter,

which smelled of love

The first which was the last…

.

I remember, I wrote:

I am writing this letter to you”

To you

Whom I do not know where you are right now

nor I know what you are doing right now

To you

that I love more than anyone I have

so, I am writing this letter to you…

.

I remember that I wrote that letter with two pens,

holding them together,

a green and a red

Somehow that no one would recognise my handwriting

And I signed it with a name which was not mine

I remember that I wrote that letter

at the midst of an early dawn

At the midst of an early pale blue dawn

.

I should have realised that love equalled sin

.

I should have turned my face away from love

The way one would turn from a stranger

I should have covered my ears with hands of denial

I should have known that love equalled sin

.

And then we both turned our faces away from love,

as the strangers would turn

And then we kept washing away the cloths of our hearts

in the stream of denial

Over and over

Until we managed to defeat our hearts for ever a ever

.

And now

With a fake relish,

I am sitting at a dinner table

Despite my unwillingness to sit

Despite my unwillingness to eat

the host keeps on

offering…

.

I love you

Even though I did not say a word to you

but “hello”, occasionally

.

And today I am so thirsty for that “hello”

and desire the quench of hearing that voice

which used to answers back

saying: “hello”

.

Where are you now?

Where are you now?

My heart keeps on asking me

.

Do you still remember the sunny streets of spring

on the way back from school?

Do you still remember the alleyways

which were covered with snow of cold winters?

Do you still remember the footprints of the sun

on the icy pavements?

Do you remember the sun and the snow

which merged with one another

mirroring our desire to meet again?

.

And I

Always alone

And alone

And again alone

And still alone

Keeping worm

with the memories of those freezing days…

.

I wish I did not keep that secret from you

I should have known that tomorrow

would plant you in the desert of denial

It was so bitter without you

When my longing heart was labelled with sin

Where pain was mixed with desire

Amongst the calamity of my lonely life

.

And today

When I glance at yesterday

Asking why happened all that happened

And why did not happened, what should had not happened

And why I did not steal the pen

of the hand of the fate

.

And now at the depth of my loneliness

I am struggling with the dream of a distanced mirage

And the memories of what have never happened

And a heart which has never beat

because of the fear of love

And a face which has never turned red

because it never turned to you

But a face which turned yellow

because of the fever of separation from you

.

And today it has been registered in the book of unrecorded memories

Amongst the pages of an unwritten book

inside the history which has never happened

in the tail of the love story which has never been said

the remain of a desire which has never been believed

a pale desire

a lifeless one

a dumb one

.

And now,

with a virgin body

but a loose heart

I am sitting at the doorstep of a nightmare

Perchance that the infant of my heart

will be played with in a way

that a child would play

with a butterfly...

.

And I am still thinking of the love

which I could have offered you…


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