His love for me was an obscure secret, a mystery that dwelt deep within, undefined and misunderstood.
It resembled a dream that clashes with reality— a dream that blooms through a wandering forest, grows into a tree, changes its leaves, and eventually withers away.
His hope for me was rooted in a false idea of love.
The love that lacked water, air, and the sincere honesty found deep within a garden.
Occasionally, amidst my thoughts and fantasies, standing between belief and dream, I realise another truth—that I did not truly believe in his love.
Shahla Latifi
August 2025