I relearn to breathe each time your eyes come up for air in the trembling tides of memory, I rear you gardens with the bittersweet delicacy that is your name on my tongue. O, timid heart, she came to my bedside last night clutching a ruby-spun sari, her fingertips reddened by pure passion, and I almost choked on the music such a dream pulled from my lungs. Would such a thing not compel you to prostrate in declaration of your devotion to God? Those eyes, colored with all the desires I cannot articulate, would turn any tiger into a house cat. Those eyes, those eyes, beautiful girl, grant me mercy—I beseech you! Glance at me once more and I will die dreaming about meeting you at the nikkah. Your fellow heroines wish to find a suitor who could measure up to the ones in their storybooks, but baby, what man would crave you like this? Your scent has made me a drunkard determined to be your prince. If we must argue in order to ensure I might inhale it again, so be it, for there is no world I exist in which you do not occupy my waking hours. If I must constantly vex you to have even a shred of your heart, I will happily shoulder your resentments. Somewhere in the few inches between my eyes and her grin, I have fallen for a woman who ruins me for any who succeeds her.
No posts