Wed, 12/10/2014 - 05:43 -- alsayad



Gifted, is she not?

Her walk, mystical to the man’s eyes

Even her scent, easily recognized

What is she?

Her very creation far exceeds mine

Mystical, majestic at site

In a man’s world yet she spins it from its heart

Islam says

She is the door of life

Haven lies at her feet

Created from a part of me, my equal

Yet she stands high above me

Mesmerized by her eyes, you are held captive, Weak

As if lost in a dark sea of lust

Only leaving you a puddle of love

Tormenting the heart

You are never in control, for with just a swing of her hips

She keeps you at an ache and quiver

Oh how the strong man shivers

She is the mystical cloud of potion

So fragile, yet a storm of psychedelic emotions

that erupt in a form of love and anger

And when anguished…

She leaves you lost… a stranger

She is the enlightening sun and I the dark moon

only through her light I shine

and may enlighten you


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