The Night Has Arms


when we said

we’d do all the things

we’re never going to do?



how promises hung heavy

in our hearts,

but flew lightly

from our lips?


Do you


our naivety

and how we mistook it for




I do.



Some say I


too much, that the grooves

in my brain

were made by the weight

of my memories.


They say

my mind collapsed

in on itself.


Is that what you believe?


Because I’m not sure

I trust

my instincts

around you.


But I’ll still ask

you to hold

me at night—

and your touch

will be cold and faint,

and I’ll wonder if I’m

really being held

by anything more than

the night air.


So, my brain will try

to take charge

of my heart

only to realize it is an impossible feat.


He’s there.

He’s there.

He’s holding you.


For someone

who feels too much,

it’s odd I can’t feel



Copyright notice:

© Zeinab Hassan Fawaz and Broken Dolls, 2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited.


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