You walked into my garden much later in life.
I didn’t expect that.
After we’ve lived way past all our illusions
And made peace with the coming years.
Everything was so clear back then.
The sunlight caught certain details in its mesh.
The indiscernible little scars on your face that made you you and no one else.
Your eyes were the color of a song
Whose notes I once climbed into and curled up in.
Your voice had the unfamiliar, strange taste
Of rain in a desert country.
We lay on a beach once
And you kissed my underarm
And whispered, “This is mine.”
You left, of course
As was your custom.
But as you were leaving, a changed man
With a new edge to your character,
You said, “You have everything, so hold on.”
And so I ask you,
Will you come back
And weave me into your story?
And in return, I will give you
What’s left of me:
This gift of skin and hair and bones.
Note: "First love" and my other poems are published on medium.com/@asilrashid
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