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23h · 26
To My Unborn Child
سلمى 23h
One day you will read these lines,
maybe under a tree,
or somewhere far as the sun shines.
You will notice in these words,
all the norms and values I once mentioned
about how the world works, and how it is shaped by intention.
My voice will play in your mind.
I hope you remember me as someone
strong, sincere and kind.

In our world are oranges, olives and birds, but the hard truth I must tell you is this:
the world holds space for broken systems.
The same ones you profit off still hold victims-
the lives of those deemed meaningless,
and easy to risk and rid.
For those you must amplify your voice,
keep them alive and on the grid.
Life does not matter, while it flies and spins,
if you do not try and give your all from within.
For those oppressed and forgotten -
we, who remember will rise,
the rest let be rotten.
the state of the world is exposing us all.
5d · 417
Empty Figure
If paper and pen
understand me to my core,
then it is my voice that betrays me evermore.
I know better, yet opening up
stays my biggest fear.
I am surface-leveled,
neither there, nor here.
And so comfortably, with no fuss,
I stay a projection,
nothing more than dust.
I am your imagination,
no depth,
no width.
I am only but a shell.
An empty figure,
stripped of will and vigor.
7d · 59
Bird in a Cage
A space once large enough for
my emotions and thoughts,
is now caving in.
It used to hold me- being and body,
in turn I carry resentment.
I am too big,
too strong,
too ambitious,
to stay caged.
Jun 10 · 97
First Time Living
سلمى Jun 10
I searched for you
in warm hands,
in soft eyes,
in more hellos
than goodbyes,
hoping to stitch
what you rarely gave me.
Anyone
to call Mother,
to save me.

I learned to fold myself
smaller,
and smaller.
I became a piece of paper.
Never felt safer,
turning into nothing -
air,
distancing myself
from you,
in despair.

I wore perfection
like my favorite dresses,
hanging.
My mirror knew my emptiness,
twirling, changing.
I thought if I sparkled enough, just right,
you might finally see me,
maybe even
appreciate my creativity.

But you were carrying your own
ghosts of the past,
nowhere to come home.
And I held your silence
like a secret,
thought it was mine to keep.

As a woman myself now,
I see the cracks in your face.
Beneath the pretty bow
and lace -
an unwanted woman,
an unspoken ache.

So I loosen the bow,
and decide, in time -
I will forgive you
because it’s your first time
living, too.
ah, the mother wound.
May 15 · 369
An Orange Flower
سلمى May 15
An orange flower
sways in the wind,
like the curl that falls across your forehead.
I am reminded of the shape
of your eyes,
the curve of your hips,
your smile in the sun.

One day,
I‘ll hold your hand
while you carry a little version of you
and my life will be absolute.
It’ll be all of you,
all of me,
cradled in your arms,
always.
May 9 · 300
Life‘s Regrets
سلمى May 9
When you looked me
in the eye,
and said you wanted to die -
to let go of Life‘s grasp,
I saw her cry,
and beg for your forgiveness.
Apr 17 · 240
Loveless Drawer
سلمى Apr 17
A wound I mistook for healed
opened itself last night.
I slipped and spiraled
in my skin,
and I remembered what it was like
to be fourteen again,
and miserable with every glance
in the mirror.

Oh teenage girl,
I wish I could love you
into healing.
I long to soothe you
into breathing.
For now,
I keep you shut
in the back of a dusty drawer.
One day,
I‘ll learn to love you.
Mar 29 · 139
The Deadly Loop
سلمى Mar 29
I spiral
Until I have talked myself
Out of living
Mar 19 · 101
A Haiku For You
سلمى Mar 19
Gave up the battle,
Oh, but then God brought you here.
I have lost nothing.
Mar 19 · 160
Alternate Universe
سلمى Mar 19
In any other world,
during any other time of day -
things could be different.
And yet,
maybe they‘d be just the same.

Every version of me
has to let you go.
Mar 17 · 1.4k
It’s Not Me, It‘s You
سلمى Mar 17
I am not hard to love.
I am not unreasonable,
and I don’t distribute headaches, like candy,
when I wish to express my emotions.
I simply express.
I am allowed to voice
my thoughts,
my opinions.
If it is a concept you cannot grasp,
take the problem off my back,
and dig deep within yourself.
Mar 12 · 137
Death by 1000 Cuts
سلمى Mar 12
Harsh stabs in my throat.
I let them slice through.
Your words cut me sometimes,
but I let them go for you.

I wonder why I always tiptoe,
why I swallow my tongue,
like I swallow food.
Why I abandon myself,
to enjoy the pleasures of you.
Mar 12 · 543
Suicide Tide
سلمى Mar 12
I used to be able to hold the tides.
They bent to my will,
with such ease.
Now, they pull me under.
Deep down, I always knew -
water would betray me.

— The End —