I’ve been to far off places,

Not one of them were as queer as you.

You’re like a strategy dug so deep,

I sense sadness when I hold you

Melancholy, at the rim of your throat;

Like a place I’ve not known.

The words pouring out of your mouth When you speak,

How you call my name,

As pleasant as a melody.

At 3 am.

The creeks of your body tell me stories,

Of war and ruins;

Of love and peace.

You taste,

Like Light and grief,

And dark happiness that’s clinging onto your lips.

The madness that’s growing on you;

When you see sunsets each time,

With the sea rushing on your feet.

How you feel the wind crashing on your skin,

And I silently listen to your heart crack;

As you close your eyes,

And hold my hand

I’m entering into the world you own.

Amtul Hajra

un-optimistic, Poet, and a friend to many.


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