Too cliché 

Love at times, it’s too cliché 

Like neon lights on Venice streets.

The boom mic roared a black parade,

But our love never felt like a reach.

 

Our native tongues exchange pleasantries,

I miss that friend who could understand.

Whom heard and saw my sacred dreams,

That told me to do my “think I can’s”

 

We laughed sometimes at what might be,

Cried at others, as fate does grieve.

Eyes that met as do grains meet sand,

You were my comfort, my heart, your command.

 

And in that natural space we walked,

I wore native garbs and emotions sleeved,

I miss most how much we talked,

Zeitoun plucked from an oiled sieve.

 

And when judgment came, it came harsh!

You checked and wrecked as do noble Queens.

And at times, when I howled and barked,

Still Wendy, she endured the worst of me.

 

Love is cliché, I’ve read its sum total parts!

The acts, the scenes, all the tragedies,

And though I’m done with that dreamer’s heart,

At night sometimes, some thoughts I see.

 

I miss dear Wendy’s voice in song,

Just the friend if nothing more,

But the road between us is a road too long,

That film rolled credits, drapes to the floor.