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Khadija Rehman

Romance Others


Khadija Rehman

Romance Others



1 min 236 1 min 236

Those organic fractures

Of our komorebi 

Breaths—chaotic and 


Absorbed by the tribal


The tower houses on your skin

Look amber in the 


The plundered topography of

Your rugged body—broken

Asphalt of inner city


The streets of wooden love 

Burn like meteor

Showers in this moaning


This room—sour cream—becomes a

Satellite city of 

Our hundred gasps.

What is sex but self-preservation? 

Amidst the wasted condoms

On the floorboards, like

Wild seaweeds, I desperately

Seek—a skylar caught in

A violent storm—to survive in you.

After all, sex burns away

Like satin smoke

Before sunrise—lost, disintegrated.

Where do lost things go?

Do not lovers become strangers

Again after midnight? 

What is conscience but the aftermath of pastel-colored sins?

How can two strangers who

Make love become 


What is sex but creating art out 

Of lonely nights? 

Those Vatican Gods 


That sex is an avalanche

Of ice.

But oh, my stranger lover, when 

Has any snowflake 

Ever felt responsible for it?

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