As the night breathes,
l inhale the gasp of air
Bruised by the past
I clasp my hands to the weave of moonlight with a surprise
My hair over the pillow
My heart full of fear
With faithful resentment in my eyes
I find refuge in troubled midnights
As the night grows
His touch
His laughter
The force of his body on mine
Compels my imagination
But sometimes
Many nights and many hours
I remember a slice of the moon
stealthily borrows my sorrows
Then
Along the trampled edges of my mind
The dark weaves of past
Vanishes alongside the layers of the night
Shahla Latifi
October 31st, 2018