If you were mine
If you were mine—
I’d wake to the sharp weight of absence
pressed against my ribs,
the taste of rain forgotten
where your shoulder used to be.
I’d learn the language of silence,
count the cracks where light once lived,
trace the salted trails
that dreams forgot
on temples too tired to remember.
Sometimes, your pulse is a ghost—
a stutter lost in midnight’s hush,
a code I never fully cracked,
hidden in the silence
where words refuse to wake.
But other nights—
I hear your breath as a weapon,
a storm that rips through calm,
shattering the fragile glass
of hope I tried to build.
I press my ear to emptiness,
to the silent chamber
where your heart no longer beats,
and wonder if desire is a wound—
or the scar it leaves behind.
In this fractured moment,
I am not fire but ash—
waiting for you
to become the breath
that ignites or kills.
Copyright © Saeed Koushan | Year Posted 2025
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