I remember those evening walks,

like they were yesterday.

You talked about

anything and everything.

My words were quiet,

my anxiety louder.

And after dealing with

that bullied and lonely girl.

The day, like a drab and dull canvas

devoid of the colors of joy.

But under the setting sun,

the tropical breeze,

and the sound of the evening Azan

As the sky lost its color

My life, came to life.

So I would put away the knife

farther away from my wrist

and ask myself to last a little longer

for this,

this smell of freedom

and the happiness that we cooked

out of your oblivious words

and my life’s miserybook.

and we would weave a pretty tale,

out of the fragments of your imagination

and my need to escape.

And you would set me free

with irony of your jokes

and your airy laughter,

I would dissolve in the moment

Impervious of what came after.

And as we walked on,

one step after the other,

I would listen to your voice

and brave on further.

 

Because in that blend

of evening air and “almost there”

Happiness was free,

And so were you and me.