By Hussain Kachwala
I've rediscovered you.
Fallen again after rising from the dark pits of despair, only to have my love for you as a drug to alleviate my broken back.
And I must guide myself back to the light of day, knowing that I shall watch myself fail yet again.
I feel as though I am witnessing myself from a bird's eye, banging on the gates of my mind's palace, knowing of what is to come.
And yet I feel imprisoned in my own mind all the same, trapped in the flood of memories I cannot erase.
I find myself rushing to each glimpse of her affection, like a man blind, rushing to a mirage.
I know that nothing is real.
And yet I cling, to singular hope.
Even in my exile, as I focus to cast her away, reflections of hers are thrown to me by the world, a constant reminder of the path of the damned.
If you're ready to worship someone who has no idea they've become a God, is that true love? Or is it mere stupidity?
If a fool I am, then proudly so, for if the mere thought of her is the substance that rots my soul,
I shall bow as my back breaks, for there is no task more noble.
And as I crumble to dust, I shall tell the soil what her eyes looked like, my guiding light in the ashen sky.
Let my own God know if you ever meet Him, that I died a hundred times over, dancing with His greatest creation, until my feet were but bone.
By Hussain Kachwala
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