Pain is Beauty
As she twists within,
Consuming our minds with fear and loathing,
And when we lose a petal each day because of her,
We forget.
For every time I have wept beneath the terrors of past events,
Under the shadows of his hand and my still youthful eyes,
It was pain that I feared,
And yet I had forgotten why she was there.
She just happened to be.
Yet again, the times I clenched my body together
In the hourless nights, whispering to myself
The sweet nothings of soothing secrets,
I was harking her away, the jealousy, I had lost too much.
All this time not registering her for what she was.
And when I lay on the mattress of blue,
In that god forsaken paper white gown,
Unpleasantly exposed and convulsing, time and time again
She spears my body with the force of a butcher.
And I despise her even now as she has driven me mad.
But I have grown into the dance she tugs us into,
As her knife as smoothed off my jagged edges,
Though I sob into her shoulder as we speak,
I have realised how in love I am with her.
As she is all of us.
She is my reminiscence of my old and future self.
All of which I own in the now I hold onto tighter,
As her predatory gaze lays upon it,
And it reminds me of what I have.
She only appears when I have something to lose
And does that not make me so utterly human?
So as she twirls me, and tears shed once again,
I remember that I am something, someone,
And so is she, and as we grow older, and I will fall for her over and over.
Copyright © Lina Al-Hakim | Year Posted 2025
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