The Poems

You Promised

This poem is a descent into the fragile hours where love shifts into silence. It captures the moment when warmth turns cold, when closeness breeds loneliness, when promises unravel in the space of a single night. Each line is a cry against the quiet distance that grows between two bodies sharing the same bed, yet drifting into different worlds.

Was Eve Niqabi?

This poem wrestles with the tension between faith and appearance, between what is seen and what is felt. It asks whether devotion can be measured by fabric, by skin, by judgmental eyes—or if it lives deeper, in the unseen heart. A cry of rebellion, it confronts the hypocrisy of being judged for the outside while carrying God within, questioning whether heaven or hell is truly decided by what we wear.

Apple Crumble

This poem is a memory wrapped in taste and time—sweetness laced with sorrow. It tells of love found and lost, of apples and crumbles becoming metaphors for tenderness and loneliness. In the quiet streets of Lyon, beneath Christmas lights and shared wine, joy and ache existed side by side. It is a meditation on how even the sweetest moments can leave a trace of solitude.

Cool Girl

This poem confesses the impossible weight of being the “cool girl”—the effortless, detached, perfect version of love. It unravels the truth of longing instead: the craving for closeness, the fear of rejection, the hope for acceptance. Tender and raw, it lays bare the panic beneath the kiss, the ache beneath the act of love.

Not A Prophet, Or A King

This poem is a gentle refusal of excess. It isn’t about many—it’s about one. It’s about choosing devotion over novelty, presence over distraction. With tenderness and quiet humor, it paints a life of simplicity: cuddles at 3 a.m., ice cream hair for a child, a cat nestled between books in bed. At its core, it insists that love doesn’t need to be multiplied—because for a heart that seeks reciprocity, one person is always enough.

Emily

This poem is about the promises men make, the lives they build with words and gestures, and the way it can all dissolve into absence. It traces the cruel shift from intimacy to abandonment, from being “the one” to being replaced by someone easier, steadier, less demanding. It is not just heartbreak—it’s the brutal comparison, the silent violence of being left behind for an “Emily” who asks for less. At its core, the poem is a lament for trust, love, and the unbearable truth that sometimes being “too much” simply means being real.