“I’ll die.. don’t do this to me..”
“Die then. I don’t care.”
Of humans and journal pages
It was always a torture opening up in front of other human beings… Potential judges, weapons… which you feed with your own trust till they use it against you.
Pencils and papers were always my friends. Silent, open, blank, unbiased, and always on my side. Sometimes they even let me weep over them and smudge their pretty pages in ink and tears…
They never spoke a word against me. Never in my favour either really, but they let me fill them with my self. What could be a better commitment than to allow a human to completely fill you up…?
These pencils wrote a quadrillion words to express my pain and these pages absorbed ’em all like they were it’s own.
But then I stopped.
I found a person similar to that. I filled him and filled him with lots of love. I filled him till there was no more space to fill. He absorbed my pain just like the pages of my diary did. And he let me cry on him too. He did more in fact. He wiped those tears away for me.
But human beings are deadly weapons. They operate by choice and mood of their own.
All you have to do is load them up with your trust and your secrets. Tell them your flaws and your mistakes. Tell them your regrets and the truth about yourself and wait to see how the gamble turns out. More often than not they will shoot it all back together at you when you will be least expecting it.
They’re the revolver and your trust, the bullets. Tell them all your secrets and fill them with your trust and it will be the same as loading up a gun with bullets. Tell them more and more till there’s no space to fill them anymore and they’ll be a wholly loaded gun pointing right at you.
Now smile and say I trust you.
Soon after you’ll hear screams and find the paramedics collecting your traces off the ground.
– Hiba
Dead silence
I’m waiting now
Waiting to hear my sweet melody
The sound of their voice
The sound of their heart beat
Or the sounds that they make
In the innocence of their sleep
But there’s no melody any more
No music
No heavenly sound of their presence
Just dead silence
4th July 2017. When it finally hit me.
Find your home
in a person
and you will be
homeless
in no time.
I’ve been facing such a hurricane out of life, I think I’ve lost my ability to write.
Someone please prompt me and ask me questions so I can at least try to express myself…
Australian citizens?
Guys, if any of you are residents in Australia or know someone who’s a resident there and can be trusted, please email me on hibasyed98@gmail.com
I need assistance and a little help regarding certain matters related to quick immigration to Australia. And yes I’ve already familiarized myself with the whole procedure and different kinds of visas too.
Just email me if you’re staying in Australia or know someone there who’s on permanent residency.
Thanks & Regards
– Hiba
Fear
Rest your head against their chest.
Do you hear?
Their life beating through them?
Listen to it…
And you will know what fear is.
Oh! how fragile their life is…
To only live in heartbeats…
Your sweetest melody…
And how maybe one day you will lay against them like this
And wait for the sweet delicate sound of life
And God forbid…
All you hear is dead silence.
– Hiba
Rain
I’m trying
I’m too invested in things more beautiful than poetry
So I’m trying
I’m getting requests to continue
And I don’t wanna refuse
I know the magic words can do
So I wanna continue
But about what
And where do I start
And how
The weather’s nice
It rained today
Like the tears that I shed yesterday
But the rain is mercy
Unlike my pain
So I know I’ve healed
I felt happy
And excited
And I took my parrot out to the balcony
And he screeched and sang from excitement
And that was my heart.
Happy and joyful
Dancing inside from joy
I don’t get why people use umbrellas during such beautiful weather
It’s ungrateful and idiotic
Especially for people in Kuwait
I can’t believe they could be so dumb
After months of being roasted under the scorching Kuwaiti sun
You’d think people would cherish this beautiful weather
Cool breezes
And drops of sweet water from the heavens
And the weather’s gift to the people of Kuwait
And they have the nerve to be so ungrateful
With umbrellas over their heads
And pacing speedily out from under the sky
So desperate to get inside
How ignorant
They don’t cherish it when they get it
And yet they complain all year round about how much they would love if Kuwait was breezy and cool
We live in a world where people who don’t have time
To cherish and enjoy the things they asked for all year round
What a strange world…
What a strange world…
– Hiba
Fear
I’m…scared…
…Of falling
…again
Oh how many there are…
So many, I cannot count.
So many, I could be heaven bound,
So many and yet I hide.
And run…
Can’t let anyone in…
And sweetheart, it hurts…
I wish I was as fearless as before.
Before you stole my firsts,
Before you tossed ‘em in the trash.
Before you broke my bones,
And let my heart crash.
And I have nothing now.
Just a step in front of me…
…I’m too afraid to climb,
And I guess this is what I’m gonna do…
Here is where I’m gonna stay,
Until the day I’m not afraid,
Until the day I could fall again…
These days I just look at my healed scars and feel afraid,
And the day I don’t, I will move on ahead.
…But until then too many chances will go amiss.
But that’s alright,
As long as my heart’s okay.
As long as no tears fall,
I will breathe.
And call it a life.
Goodnight, love.
I don’t miss you anymore…
Just wish you weren’t a thing in my life…
At least I wouldn’t hide,
From the things that were meant to revive…
– Hiba
The Sun Still Shines
Sometimes, you’ve just gotta let it pass
Let it slide
Remember all the smiles
Not the tides
That had ruined your lives
But the calm blue skies
And the sun that shines
While you still hide
In that awful place
Claiming the sun has died
And that there is no life
Outside of that messy pile
Wherein you hide
Oh but well, it is your loss after all
The sun can’t shine
On its own in your eyes
But it shines still and reflects in everyday smiles
Of that young man who falls
In love
With the sun’s inescapable shine every time.
– Hiba // purely fiction
