A malediction of what’s not meant.
The moon chased after the sun before he could make her stay,
But it turned into a lonely night before day.
The rainbow cheered the cloud up before he teared,
But it turned into a furious thunderstorm before it cleared.
For if the solemn utterance and solicitous deed is intended for love to be known and felt by the need,
Then, there won’t be beauty before it.
I’ve learn one of a few things on entreaty
It’s the most deafening wound yet the courageous front against rage.
It may not be an extricate shot, before guilt and regret.
But remaining silent, never meant to be forever be silenced.
I love food
I really do
I love the anticipation for flavours bursting into my tastebuds
I love food,
but I love you too.
I don’t write as often, it’s an internal bloody war of being myself and knowing it’ll be stab against me now.
But I’ll still write, even if prevailing the truth carved in me would seem pathetic.
For I’ll still write to You, even if only a word is left in me.
“Or do you think that you will enter Paradise while such [trial] has not yet come to you as came to those who passed on before you? They were touched by poverty and hardship and were shaken until [even their] messenger and those who believed with him said,”When is the help of Allah?” Unquestionably, the help of Allah is near.”
(Al-Baqarah 2:214)
