The Zahir

Some nights you fill in me. Just like the black eating up the evening sky.
On those nights, I lament for my incapability to be, what you want me to be.
Those nights, memories hurt like age old wounds. The words you spoke thrust like arrows.
Your silences, your sobs, you nothing but you.
On those nights, I feel like possessed.
You turn out to be the sleepless night. The silence. The dew. The smell of night flower.
Maddened by my state I cry out as if I woke from a nightmare.
On those nights, I wish nothing. As you want me to wish nothing.
I wish every night to be like those nights.
For you are the madness, the triumph, the defeat.
On those nights, what am I going to call you.
Other than Zahir

For Esther