Silver tipped wings roar to a stop

on tarred tarmac melting in the noon-day heat

I step out enveloped by the warm breeze

comfortably stirring buried memories

Of oven rose petal bracelets tied to wrists

sipping Kahva, hot, spicy, refreshing

laughing again to nothing

As glass bangles are chosen

Giving coins generously to outstretched palms

Of maimed bodies with Angelic faces

As beautiful as our love

why do I keep coming back to open old wounds

To a heart once pierced

I wonder?

~Nafisa Aug  22, 2026