Just Dance

You stand there, and I gaze
Obsession with your beauty is my case

Every feature attracts me closer,
Every word makes me go softer

Sambista in my heart is playing
You, in my sight, is what I am heavenly gaining

To the beat, I step forward and then I take it back
This is the dance, baby and you are what I lack

I am not hesitant; I am not driving you crazy
You'll always be my beautiful daisy

I am just leaving gaps for your steps to fill
And step hard on my dignity against my will

But you twist there, shifting your body far from mine
Oh, this wind, I envy, wraps your waist where sparkles shine

I am not hesitant; I insist, I am just waiting for you
Stop performing the solo dance and watch what I do

Help me finish my master piece; it has no audience at all
I created for my love, embedded in your soul

Samba is playing and it isn't for loners
Be kind to me and be a heart donor

I'll stay here till our songs age,
And loving you makes me a sage

On my knees, begging for a chance,
Asking you again and again to just dance

Hate You

- A: Hey, how are you?
- B: I am fine, and you?
- A: Do you love anyone?
- B: What?
- A: You had boyfriends before? You have been in love previously?
- B: Hm, are you sane? Just out of the blue you're ask-
- A: I love you. You don't know it, neither do I. You barely know me and so do I. I don't know who you're, but I don't care. I am not shallow though. It's just I am under a spell. I am not a poet. I didn't read million Nicolas Sparks love books nor watched romantic movies. I wasn't even ready for this talk right now. I am rushing everything out! I swear I don't know why or how that happened..... Well, I think I made a mistake.
- B: What on earth is this? A prank?
- A: A prank? My love to you, my tears on my pillow, my silent thoughts, my struggle daily to stop looking at you, my stupid jokes with my friends just to pretend I am not stalking you, my trials to jump into a group where you stand, fighting myself to stop loving you, is a prank?! A joke?
You don't understand it, do you? I seriously tried to hate you. I tried to imagine you're blind, lost your beauty, not moving a toe, a person who requires a nurse and a room with no mirrors.... Then, I found out that I already hate you. I hate you like the moon hates its full appearance in the sky. I hate you like fish hates swimming all day long in the blue sea. I hate you like the bird hates the air of freedom which flows within its feathers. I hate you like a teenager hates his unknown blurry future. I hate you like a kid hates his A with-no-stars grade. I hate you that lovely hatred. Undefeatable. It's the nature of my fragile heart. Still, you, passing by my side without acknowledging my presence, doesn't kill me. I just love it when I see you. Nothing more. I am a slave for you. I don't wait for payment, cause my whole life is in the house of your love, cause my whole job is daydreaming of you. What a job to cherish!
I am an idiot. I can never make this words up, they just flew without my permission, without my consciousness. You're the only one who lets my suffering brain rest by your smile, and you are the only one who tortures my existence by the remembrance of that magical smile when you're out of sight.
I promise you I will never annoy you and I will never mention any of this to anyone. I fear even your answer. So, I will just go now.

  Destiny decided for them to be this, the last conversation to have, as he didn't hear her reply which was approving silence. All what she kept recalling was "I hate you," just to let her guiltiness befriend her unconsciousness.

  He wrote "Love is confusing, try to express it in words. Try to state how it can ruin a broken-hearted desperate old man to leave his fortune to you, just to write, to make up words. I wish it would save some young lovers out there, " in his will which was a superb fortune left for a faculty of literature. 

  Well, if I was that man, I would not have done that. May be because I am the headmaster of that college and I can't see any improvement nor partial success in that complicated equation, but as a former lover, I think it's magical to feel love, but it's supernatural to confess it and turn it into a happy family. As I have a happy family and married to a woman who loves me, I'm supernatural and proud of that. In fact, I told my wife about this man's speech to his lover and stated the hating part. She got angry at me; then I explained. The moon can never hates its full appearance in the sky, it's just fond of its job, that's why it's up in the sky every night. It can never call itself ugly, cause it feels beautiful in the starry sky, it feels unique in that dark background, it feels sufficient despite the distance between itself and earth. It loves Earth, that's why it keeps spinning round it. Distance can never get closer, but it loves its job, and hates the impossibility of reaching its crush, Earth. It just gave up to the fact, to nature and can't be hopeless towards its fading hope of seeing Earth and being relatively close to it. This is love's hatred. Actually, that day, after my wife's silent tantrum and my explanation, I ate the most delicious muffins. So, I decided to explain each one of the "hate you" thing daily, and every day I had a different tasty treat. I wasn't fooling her. This man's love made my love more apparent. This man's love made my wife loved me more. This man's love explained to me that man's honest confessions and woman's understanding are the milk and coffee of your perfect latté of addicted love. From that day, I told my wife whatever was on my mind, and since that day, she learnt to wait for my further explanation.

  Now, dear students, my lecture is done. The man's will is fulfilled too, I guess. It's your turn, to invent simplicity of love in an era of complicated technology. Good luck with your exams.

Free Time

  Free time, is what I suffer from. After you're gone, with a phantom left before me, I've nothing to do, but writing letters to you. None of them are sent. All of them are in my drawers. Every day I meet you, I head back to my room, and read all the letters. I write letters sent to you and replied to me.....by you which, actually, you've never written. I read them in your tune, I understand them the way you'd get it, and write the replying letters in the way you would write it, in the handwriting you'd create.

  I am not desperate. I am not lonely. It is just the way I replaced you with letters and the way you replaced me with empty air, makes me a winner. A heartless winner. My dignity doesn't hold me from knocking on your door. My heart doesn't advise me to stop beating when you're around. It's simply my brain convinced the rest of my existence that hating you is easier than accepting you as a companion in my life.

  Wait, I haven't told you about the content of the letters? They are lyrics. That's what I'd on mind. Every song is about what you'd suffer from by now. Every word is about what I'd say to support. All I had on mind was... lyrics. The ink I had to write these words on these poor papers which has no fingerprints but mine, is the music. Music varied from being crazy, with none resting beats to a piece of soothing music. Some of the words will make you laugh, some of them will make you go insane, some of them will make you quit trying to have revenge from life which you're about to hate.

  So, tell me what do you do in your free time, but escaping the thought of me? I mean, when do you have a time free of me?

The Occult

  That love. That admiration. That feeling which makes you feel little and the other is the biggest. You feel insecure and that person is your guardian. That feeling when you stand and stare at nothing waiting for that voice from behind, even by the meanest words. That endless time you spend waiting, and nothing really happens. 

  Mirror can't say the reason. TV shows can never narrate the story. The words are unable to act the racing heart and the breathless slow moves, stepping away. That moment when you feel they are the clouds, out of your reach. On the other hand, you feel you're powerful and you, actually, work hard to get closer, but you're like gravity, even if you reached the extremes of effortful trials, distance between you can never lessen. The sky and ground can never collapse. Even if it happened, it can never reach the core of Earth where gravity's throne is.

  It's nature's decision to put your story among the impossibilities. It's fate's selective choice to add your fantasy to its incomprehensible encyclopedia.