Dear Hawa:

the minimal flying particles in the atmosphere dance in utterly unpredictable patterns 

like images of you glowing and vanishing, glowing and vanishing. 

The sharp outline of your hair, the dull hue of your pupils 

The loud stubborness of your brows, the silence of your talking mouth 

The bright presence of your shirt at midnight, the dark void of your cheeks filled with joy 

The high pitch of your dreams, the low groan of your inside

I take a swift heap, dive down from the balcony, and the air! 

Frozen. Still. 

I am stranded in mid air. stripped of the ability to choose the way out. 

You: You choose! 

Me: But I can’t 

You: Choose! 

Me: … 

You: This is how you hurt me 

Me: …

You: I will leave you lonely, then 

We appear disappear together alone

Act I: 

you blow dry my reflection, 

you cook breakfast for my ego,

you cushion my anthrophobia, 

Act II 

Go child, fly flamingo you say, when the rain comes, listen, 

when the girl screams, cup her cheeks and whisper
the painless poems that you wrote one serene evening 

Go my love, 

eat each salad with grace, handle each situation with a fork but, 

Fly autumn, 

Until next time but, 

Go, bye, arey go! 

Act III

I become a tiny flying particle in this unfamiliar city. 

One day I will realize

Wether I glow or vanish is up to me, 

whether I hear the baritone or the guitar in a song is up to me,  

whether I grip on to you or spread my fingers is up to me 

one day, 

one day is not now.