11:30 pm- It’s that time of the night;
-when the stars break their bones
Into the wetness of tickling memories
And you find your body trying to survive under water
-when your shadow are embedded in the heat
Wrecking the silence in the head of a boy
With dark whisper of hallelujah.
I do not know about the death
That opens the skin of a boy into a red sea,
Turning his complexion into colours
Of places where the trees live in solitude
And water is a way into cities of ruin,
Where a girl’s voice is a stream of bliss-less music
Plaiting the air with fragrance of dark flowers.
But I do know about the death
Residing in the heart of a girl
Mocked for loving her reflection
About the death that turns a boy
Into flames of fire- burning in a lame street
For stretching into the vowels of the word
That ate the sun in his mother’s eyes.
I do know about the death drowning a man
In the water of his lover’s elegance
And in the art crucifying his heartbeat
In the way she smiles, laugh and talk
Converting her body into unsafe places
Like the temple in the heart of strange figures
Where the moon greet bodies with coldness.
I do know about the death on the lips
Of a girl- fading next door
For running into the dark with her lover’s image,
And the death of a boy that fell from the preacher’s mouth
When he said- ‘Love is light and light’
For love has been a weight weighing his body
On the scale of goodbyes- without the ‘good’
And an artist, art-ing his portrait on blank pages of darkness.
Someone once said;
‘When love sneaks through the moon
We shouldn’t be too fast to light-up our nights with her’
I do not know what it means
Till I saw the stars falling from the sky of a girl
Left with the fragments of her lover’s memories.
