Two by Two
Eyebrows are sisters, lips are lovers, the hemispheres something like telephone friends. Built in pairs: lungs, hands, ears, nostrils, two by two. Except the soul inside, which dreams of its twin. So when I look at you through those dark windows, I’m not meeting you— I am welcoming you into every vestibule of my heart like bone stitched to skin.
Wow, my dear friend, this is gorgeous. Eyebrows are sisters, lips are lovers, the hemispheres something like telephone friends. That opening is pure delight, and then it turns so quietly, so completely. Built in pairs, everything mirrored, everything doubled, and then the exception. The soul inside, which dreams of its twin. That single line changes the whole architecture of the poem. Everything before it was anatomy. That line is longing. I am not meeting you. I am welcoming you into every vestibule of my heart like bone stitched to skin. The intimacy of that image. Not grand, not loud. Just the body knowing what it recognises. Bone and skin. Built for each other before either had a name. This is one of your most tender pieces, my friend. MashaAllāh. ❤️❤️❤️❤️🫶🏻🥰😊✨️