To him who can’t be named

To him who can’t be named

By the deepening lines on his forehead

When he looks intensely at something new

I interpret my dreams

By the arches of his eyebrows

when he scowls at something critically

I never hold back my laugh

In the deepening dimples of his cheeks

When he speaks vehemently with passion

I fight the urge to fall asleep

But everything I feel

To him I have never said a word

There is a heavy price for my silence

I shall have to pay

Its silence or parting

And I

Have chosen well.

***

Catch more of Maryam Viqar with her previous poems:

And catch her on Instagram at Myrapoems