صمتُكَ ليسَ هدوءً لما قبْل العاصِفة
صمتُكَ عاصِفٌ بين عيناكَ و عيناي
صمتُكَ هو العاصفة

أنا مجردُ رمادٍ لأفكارٍ إحتوَيتَها و أصبحتْ مبتذَلَة

أنا الإبتذالُ في أعماقِ كلماتِك

أنا اللاشيءُ الذي ينتمي إليك

..وتنتمي إليْه

An empty paper lied there. It felt like it was dangling from the table on the corner of my eyes, exactly southwest  my thoughts. Everything I wanted to say rested there, blue lines, silent words, nothing more. Words were breathing somewhere between my pen and that paper. I can hear them inhaling meanings, exhaling silence.
And on the other side, I can hear myself unable to breathe. How can words kill you when you're not even talking?

I guess that's why writers always have that touch of downheartedness.

Remember when I told you let's talk in silence?

Yes, that.

Can you translate the changing colors of the moon? Can you say that it shies away from the night to hide behind the clouds, because the moon is scared to light the nights of people like you?
Exactly.
You can't.
Don't label the moon.
Don't walk down the streets with hope that something will light up your life. A savior. Because those whom you give names to, are those who will refuse to save you.
Accept, for once, that words are just a point of view.
Words are a relative thing.

Times like these,
I just want to bury your entity
And pretend people don't care.

And I can't hold you and faith on the same palm - my right one.

One of you always slips away without the other. unfreely.

I was exiled to the one country I belong to.

You looked at me as if contemplating a godly creature you did not seem to fathom. I held still so you wouldn’t notice the insecurity pushed into my heart and out. I closed my eyes.
“Tell me  about a dream” –you crushed the silence.
“What? What dream? Why?"
I couldn’t understand you.
“Well, let me explain; Some dreams stay at the back of your mind for days, and each time they rush back again, it’s like you want to take hold of them and go back to sleep to complete that moment vanished by wakefulness”.
“I guess I just enjoy exploring my dreams a little while after waking up and then things run back to reality”.
“you’re wrong!” –you suddenly said, and it felt like you were trying to save me from insanity.
“You don’t enjoy because you like it, matter of fact 90% of your dreams disappear from your mind ten minutes after you wake up”.
You stuck me as quite persuasive so I nodded.
“Ah-huh”.
“Well then?”
Your facial expression. Something between a smile and seriousness, or maybe there really was a thing called a serious smile? I made that move again; I shut my eyes, yet this time I let myself think for you. I could’ve just told you, you know, the truth. Could’ve just expressed my fear towards that. Or maybe I feared you’d ask the why as well. And I didn’t want that to start.
I held my breath for a moment, sighed and let words guide – to where? I had no idea.
“It was really dark, in the dream, I mean. Fear was ocean-deep. And I was actually floating in an ocean. I was floating and drowning at the same time. I didn’t want anything more than leaving the abysmal water underneath my feet. Every time I remember the dream. I drown, once again”.
Right then, you let the air stand between us like a carrier of silence, and many other things in between. A moment of nothingness was our passerby. But I was drowning in everything. Not just a dream.
“So?” –You said.
“I’m losing air underneath again”.
“See? That’s exactly my point. Somehow, in dreams, emotions are tripled. It feels like reality struck us with too many things that everything, every emotion, surrendered to repetitiveness, lost its true essence. In dreams, though, you feel like living things for the first time, every night. Whether the moon was full or half lit.”
A pause.
“I know. I know that you think of dreams sometimes so much that you don’t know whether the next thought would come from reality or would be just another shadow of dreams. Your life seems to be like a mirage. But…”
I think I let you talk a while afterwards. But me, I only looked at you as if I’m seeing your words to save in my memory. I was like some enticed lover whose words were taken out from their heart to reach the world. You. You understood my “why”.
Then I closed my eyes once again, and let you talk.