I saw you for real, from far a few times, if you call someone pointing you out along the horizon while at Mount Nebo or someone telling you she’s right there in front of you while at a military spot in Umm Qays actually seeing. Stealing pictures of you here and there while you’re not looking, i think you look better that way, not noticing that i’m taking a picture and directly trying to smile for the camera, i think i look better that way too.

I try and wear you everyday, carry you with me, around my neck at times, in my heart at other times. I got told that you’re lucky to have me once, by a couple of cute girls at university, i think one of them already met you and i got jealous. Anyway i replied i was lucky i had you not the other way around.

Would it be different if i never heard of you? Would i be different? Why is it that i’m so hung up on you? People tell me those who are with you want to leave you, that people have met you and don’t like you that very much, living with you is hard, not easy, you’re a woman after all, what did they expect? But i at least want to be given the chance, it’s nice to have options, and if i did i’d want to be with you, would you be mine, please?

Some are sick of how much i mention you, some tell me to be careful of what i say about you and others surrounding you, are they failing you? Am i failing you? I think i’m failing everything and everyone around me, not just you.

You’re a purple flower to me, one that has no name, or maybe it does but i do not know it. You’re a movie, with people talking in an accent i recognize because it’s mine. You’re a tree, one that gives free hugs. You’re a large work of art hung in some gallery surrounded by things i do not understand..yet. You’re a book, about an encounter, sometimes a dream, text with no pictures. You’re a white figure on a black tshirt, bare feet with your back to me, they say you’d never grow up, you’ll always be ten years old, is it true? You’re a story i imagine my grandma telling me, except she didn’t. You’re that tune, lyrics, of strength and weakness at the same time. You’re the black and white, the ‘bus6ar’ i haven’t worn in a while, the relatives who visit from time to time only to talk in another language i detest and do not understand. You’re the question frequently asked. You’re the scorching sun in the summer, the one i might enjoy gently touching my face. You’re a smile through the tears, a pain so unbearable it makes people cry, a longing, a tiny candle melting with time, i replace it whenever it’s about to fade into white wax on my desk, but i’m afraid i’d be late one day. You’re a love so much stronger than others, how much i’d love to touch your face.

I will see you tomorrow, yes tomorrow, in the faces of a few of your lovers, oh how i wish you’d catch me gazing at you one day and smile back at me…

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