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Iman Asif Poem
I am the heartache in unopen love letters, that are not written in love. They are bathed in sadness.
I am a pawn in a game of chess, a move away from checkmate. A move more significant than my worth. My value more bigger than the move.
I am faith in a closed Holy book, buried in an abandoned temple. People come to Pray. They don't know how to pray. They still pray. They pray in the wrong language.
I am the city of lights, amidst a lockdown, empty streets. Not even a begger in site to come in
exchangé of a prayer.
I am myself and there is no explanation for that, i am myself in the infinty of existence.
I am myself, war and peace wrapped in aching bones.
I am myself but who are you?
Copyright © Iman Asif | Year Posted 2022
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Iman Asif Poem
I was asked
To define myself
By the things I knew so well
Who might I be?
Unfit rings?
Lost tarots cards ?
Or
All the things
That are left to be
Abandoned
Copyright © Iman Asif | Year Posted 2019
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Iman Asif Poem
I asked all the wrong people
To love me
To cherish me
For they were only travellers
And stopped at a garden like me
Intrigued by my flowers
And I loved them all equally
Not knowing,
They will just pluck my flowers
And leave me more broken
Than I already was
Copyright © Iman Asif | Year Posted 2019
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