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
