I bury my head into books,
With sun and the stars
And blue beauty moon at my escort
Regardless of the title, author and poetess
There's one thing that don't forget to struck my head,
Some lines of undying love,
Expressed in long, incorrigible prose at their best.
"You are my heart, my life, my one and only thought,
You are my breath
Dear to me is every atom of your flesh!"
Nay, now don't take this for a lovely confession,
Coming right out of my diary
burried deep in an abyss
Nor miss your beat for this charming words you cannot hold or grab
This is just me wondering,
quietly, plainly, completely a blab.
Instead of tying this kinda confession between lovers, like Romeo and Juliette
What If these words we exchange day and night with ourselves?
Instead of blaming ourself for the pain, suffering and regrets
What if we accept all our misdeeds, like lovers do with each other in real life and novels
Why we wait for the "I love you's, je taime and ana bahebak
From the people who can never love us more than themselves?
Why live our life for a high school crush, silently following their every step
And be on our toes to battle the world for their happiness?
For self love is an ocean and our heart a vessel,
First let's fill it with chapters of love prologue for ourselves.
Let's change all the love confessions for instance,
And chuck away their self created fence.
"I am my heart, my life and my one and only thought,
This is my breath,
Dear to me should be every atom of my flesh!"

Your's selflessly,
Zainab ✍️

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Dated: 30/may/2020