It will either work out between us
or it won’t.
But I’m not afraid of the absurd failure.
I’m actually afraid of the possible success.

What if it works out between us?
Would you converse with my soul
the same way you are now?
Would you still touch me
without laying your hands on me?

And tell me,
if it works out between us,
would you still wake me up at dawn
to mouth the emotions
you don’t utter in the daylight?

Would you change?
What could become of you once
attachment and habit creep up on us
and fear eats us whole?

Would you need me
instead of loving me?
Would you desire me
instead of wanting me?

If it works out between us,
would our flame still burn
as bright
and as strong as it does now?

Would we still visit each other’s dreams
and forge a reality in them?

Would you still read me Persian poetry
and sing me lullabies?
Would you still lay your head on my shoulder
and merge with my chest?

If it works out between us,
would I still find you
when you’re lost
and feel you when you’re not present?

Would I still hear the words
behind your silence
and behold the promises
in your eyes?

How I wish to know
what would become of us
if it works out between us.

Lovers walk with uncertainty
like our shadow walks beside us.
And uncertainty, my love
is what’s mostly frightening me.

And what’s terrifying me is
the voice that keeps whispering
to me
that it will work out between us.

~

Author: Elyane Youssef

Image: Pexels

Editor: Caitlin Oriel