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

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:

call me home   

And catch her on Instagram at Myrapoems

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Maryam H. Viqar
A seeker, dreamer, scribbler, reader, writing poetry about grief, loss, rain, autumn, nocturnal silence, hope and sometimes love...and yes 'the sight of the stars makes me dream' too....

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