Artificial Hope

That warm Saturday morning when I saw you being basked by the mid summer sun ray — you were barefooted, in your wide neck tank top and a floral board short, your hair was golden, glistened by the unforgiving bright sunlight — I knew that my artificial dream had almost came true.

Except that you never knew who I was, you never knew that I was seeing my dream materialized like riding on a ferris wheel — circling the horizon, up and down, the feel of being on top of the world, the soft silky gush of breeze that touched your face  — gazing from afar.

You wouldn’t know. Because I didn't have balls to tell you that I wanted you. Not that I had balls in the first place (literally!), but if I did, I would. Because my jaw locked up like a constantly-smiling clown at a cheap fun fair.

And now you’re gone.
With that girl.
Who stole my dream.
On the mid summer morning.

"I Miss You"
Zubaidah Arshad
25 July 2017
1225 hrs
United Arab Emirates


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