By: Muskaan Mir
whispers in the library
students at sixteen
a clandestine meeting
you forget your faith
and i forget my father
for the first time
i never knew i would find
hidden behind a shelf
poetry composed just for me
a language only we can speak
stone floor soft to our touch
curving your spine
wrapping your arms around mine
oversharing our overlapping history
scribbling hearts on your hands
they nest themselves in your skin
just like i nest myself in your kitchen
feeding you with the same fingers
that peruse your back
with nails too sharp
i scratch your surface
you splinter under me
shards and shards of misery
glass shatters so easily
your back
becomes my battleground
i break you and beg you to stay
before it can turn on me
we all go to war sometimes
the swords and the pens you gave
i draw one and draw over the wounds
only a few hundred scars to heal
only so much the naked eye can see
i stitch through your body
threads of shimmery gold and velvet red
seeped in ink and blood and tears
the wire i trap you with
a string of prayer tied around your wrist
a god who hates you
and you who love me
i make you leave
i am a weightless burden
too light to exist
too heavy to let go
you take me off your back
and hang me on your door
just to find
the same scars in my bones
the swords and the pens you built
you draw one and draw over my hurt
you know how to mend
what i did to you
what i did to myself
we are the same
bodies meant for ruin
skin itching to be shed
we stand naked
salt streaming down our faces
with a name unsaid
and a self unbared
secrets meant for us
love is the most painful
when you can’t love enough
it becomes harder
when you have to give yourself up
our spines are injuries themselves
bloodied but beautiful
i unravel your life
i tear you apart and make you bleed
folding your pages together
i marry you with a paper ring
and i won’t tell them who you are
if you don’t tell them who i am