He sent all his things to me
But didn’t come yet
He stole my face’s features
Which I forget on my pillow
And didn’t come yet.
I smell his odor
In the wrinkled linens
In the clothes that I haven’t changed for many days
In the nastiness of my body
In the blood stains on my underwear
In the non-combing ringlets of my hair
In the lost desire for a hot coffee
In the books that fall from my hands
In the tranquilizers
That excite my dullness
In the sleeping pills
That awaken the wild voice of my subconscious
In the Anti-depression
That rubs me from the only pleasure of pain
In the text-messages
That make me alive
And send them to the junk of forgetfulness
In the motherless and only song of Fayrouz
That my mobile keep singing to me
In all his belongings
That besiege me
And I surrender to it
Hoping that he would come
But he won’t come!
He gave me his face as a gift
And left me thrown
lonely on the sofa
Lusting for him
Opening my eyes to perish
But I die
Closing my eyes to perish
But I live!
Oh! come
Why don’t you come?
Come closer to me
For I can’t
I don't dare
I have no right
I have no power
To come to you,Azrael.


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