{for Shahrier}

Your smiles danced
on the rustic
pages of my diary

without your kowledge
just because they are informed
about how you would actually accuse me
of being childish

and trivial
for refusing what could
have consume me long time ago;
the scarred angels in red
stained dresses with clipped
wings
chipped away in my
past

sometimes
I wish that I own the capability
to translate the gratitude of having you
in my path

and later pronounce them in
an equal intensity of
my care for you

because
apparently I am not a creature of clarified
words or succint voices and
every single time
I try to vocalise the echoes
of your inexplicable entity my sentences
  
      --break
at
  the
mention
of  your
          name
                       like
it is

now


but I am glad and content
of you knowing
the truth denied to many --all those
stories I had never speak
any louder at
any time but when I am
with you

and the way you never
perceive me as
a broken being
placed me

on this
stage where I am no longer ashamed
or scared
of the intangible fragments
I carry within
the vessels beneath
the vehement layers on my
skins