If I were God,If I were given the rusted keys to this kingdom,Trust me, I wouldn’t leave anything as it is.Except you.

Viens.Pour que je reveille ce monde en t’embrassant.Viens. Tout nu.Que ta peau sur la mienne reveille chaque cellule en moi.Café—

دعني أحرق الماضي بجمر عينيك.. دعني أحرقه ورقة ورقة..

Take this pounding heart, my dear. Fold it like a napkin boat. And set it to sail.

There is a hole in the heart called "absence". You live in it my dear.

I will be waiting for you at the end of every blind alley, under the lonely streetlamps of a city that will no longer be ours.When the wind grows colder and the huge piles of settled leaves sit there for a week or two, unshielded from the curious gaze of passersby, I will be waiting for you.I will be waiting for what could have been and for what will never be;For the letters that never arrived, the letters that were never sent, and the letters that will never be written.

أنّك أتٍ من هناكما بين موجةِ تسامر خصري وموجةٍ تلّفني وشمس حزيران البرتقالية..دمعة تحرق خدّي وتغرقني..لأنني لوهلةٍ تخيّل لي أنك آتٍ من هناك..ماشياً حافياً على الماء لتلقي عليّ التحية.

أشهد ألّا رجلاً استطاع ترويضي الّا أنتَ..

هُوَ الرجل الذي لن يكرِّره هَذَا الدهر مرّتين..