There has been an emptiness in my heart,
where one resides like a hotel suite.
It is so strange that now you are gone.*
I have been longing for your residue of that pigmented flowery mark,
diminishing the lines between melancholy and brevity.
But, it was well documented in the ashes of our diaries;
the memories, the souvenirs, and the recipes.
Phone me and tell me how much you’ll miss the goodbye’s of yesteryears,
where one can reach into graphic recollections of our scenes.
The smile, the cologne, the aromatic looks, and my tranquil plot that occupies my soul; do tell of all of that has passed.
The tempest ways of my holds have plowed,
a lonely road which only you can find.
I am being irrational as of late, what about doing a handstand on a bed of frozen lake?**
I have been into and out of your mind, flirting with danger and fire at once, as though I am neither dead or alive…
It still resides, dry as ice and Shitake.
The blood-red lipstick near the dresser.
Right next to the bed where we once made love.
Bader A. Shehab