February15, 2024.
this is actually a poem inspired by one of my paintings.
your body betrays you
Her body was dressed as if she was a bouquet of flowersThat face peering out of her hijab like a copper rose
She had a grin made of pearls, her heart - a ruby the size of my fist
She radiated such warmth, but I asked her, “Why do you still feel cold?”
Her hand was like ice when she had lifted it to my cheek
I almost flinched, I could still feel her touch lingering behind on me
It reminded me of those long bus rides - when I’d fall sleep
How my face would feel after I laid it against foggy, cold windows
“Because I’m feeling blue today, maybe”, she said with a laugh
“The crescent moon itself wrapped in sunset colored silk?”, I teased
“Never full, never even half. I only let them see my good side”
“That’s wise, a vision for only Allah and a way to make mortal men beg and plead”
She said these days - the coverings feel more like bandages
Keeping her from spilling all her red ink,
but eventually, it’d all just bleed through anyway
Can’t hide suffering behind a transparent curtain, forever on display
Tears still fall, sweaty hands still tremble
Emotions can’t burn without leaving ashes
I think she’s hoping she can blame it all on the weather
December shivers and thin ice on her long eyelashes
Poetry by aidan haskel
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Written on 2024-02-15 at 09:26
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