If you’ve ever looked up at a street lamp and thought it was the moon.
If you’ve ever walked down the dark end of the street because it scared you.
If you’ve ever wanted to check the stove with your hand, even though it’s smoking and you’ve already burned yourself.
If there’s pieces of yourself you tell stories about for polite company.
If those stories are worse.
If you’ve ever walked that line between disasters and stepped to one side on purpose.
If you’re proud of your cracks, your signal to noise, your hard to reach places.
If you’ve laid those spaces bare for the hell of it.
If you hoped for a place you know you’ll never see, never find, never even catch a murky hint of.
If you ever turned your back on love because it was the right thing to do.
If you know it’s never the right thing to do.
If you’d do just the same again.
If…
If…
If you have, you’ll find me there.
And for the love of Allah leave me right there where I stand, trouble smile in place, hand reaching out for you.
If…



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