HOMELESS

Sometimes it rains ceaselessly
And droplets race down my body
Like some slippery moments
I spent with you on long wet nights.
Sometimes the sun scorches my body
And I miss the silhouette of your body
Against the warm rays of the sun
While I lay in bed feeling blissful
Screened from the rest of the world
Finding a sanctuary in the shadow of your eyelashes
The incandescence of your form
Mellowed the cruelty of the sun
And I’d come alive under the shade of your presence
Sometimes it gets really cold out here
I hold my body tight
And clasp my knees with my arms
And rub my forehead against the inner arc of my elbows
Yet I shiver and shake
And when I search for your reassuring eyes
I find myself squinting in the dark
I miss the blanket of your body
The fire of your touch
I miss burning in your caresses
I yearn for the fever of pleasure
My frozen body wants to melt into yours
Sometimes the streets get breathlessly crowded
And strangers brush past me like I don’t exist
They stare blankly as though I’m just another thing
Some stares longer than the other,
Suddenly becoming aware that there must have been beauty
Residing in me somewhere
I miss being held by your piercing gaze
I remember holding your hands
I remember walking with pride
Knowing in this over brimmed cup of life
You were mine
Secure that I belonged
I had a home.
And I had believed its walls won’t give away.

A home is all I had ever wanted
To be myself with you.
To let the masks slip
To be vulnerable
To give in
To let go
To merge
To disappear
To be free
To be found
To love
To be loved.
My home
Your body,
Your mind,
Your heart
Your soul
My only home.

Then came the tempests
Then shook the earth
The walls couldn’t contain you
Your illicit needs made cracks on the walls
Your indifference took up the entire place.
Yet I endured
My home
Was all I had?
Till it was no more

I’m homeless
A waif
Available now
Vacant
Should I advertise?
They touch me
They promise me shelter
They grope me
They say it’ll last
Just that I don’t live here anymore
Who is it inside me I wonder?
There isn’t me inside of me
Sometimes I miss my home.
Sometimes I really do.
BY
ZAID AL BASET