This glass skin of mine shatters and distorts beneath the scrutinizing gaze of my audience. I sit there, frozen, uncomfortable and dissociated. They watch my every move, like a rat in a maze; every twitch of my eyes, every hesitant turn, observed and judged.
I often find myself playing the devil’s advocate against myself,
Defending people’s humanity
Yet I can’t even utter their name
When stories are best kept on screen
And the I told you so’s get repetitive to say
I will hold a candle in mourning
For you and me
How ironic
(Losing me for you, just to lose you too)
Learning from my “maybes”, “ifs” & “buts”
I was made from the ribs of my mother / She taught me love, as much as she taught me sorrow / That inner strength is a form of self-love / That one day, I will make make it…
Thoughtful reads. Writing prompts. New pieces.
It just might become your favorite email in your inbox, insha'Allah.
