A Wound, A Void

By Shaikh Aafreen

You cannot make me hate yourself because I have always tended to my wounds, 

they coddle in my lap and drift off to sleep, 

I have always embraced them as my prized possession, my lovely accessories. 

You think I could hate you, the one who gave me all of that? 

I've clutched my wounds in my hands,

(they are when I'm and I'm when they are) 

but know this, and know this well, I've loved the one who gave them even more.

 I've loved you always through your gifts: the ugly wounds.

before the wounds, I craved their presence (and you)

and

after the wounds, I drowned myself into their absence (and you).

(You understood this, right?) 

Isn't that why 

you gave me something to look forward to, 

something to look after, 

and 

something to think about…

By Shaikh Aafreen