How much time should I spare you before we start talking about the mundane details of existence
And if I did then this poem will read like something a woman wrote to an indifferent lover.
But you are, love, pure feeling.
And this is the last day of my fasting, you are my reward.
Things have been hard
Confrontations with myself,
My mother sitting in front of me while I write this,
Telling me how my father will not buy himself new clothes for Eid…