• Farzana Ali

olive branch

last night, I was sobbing, inconsolable, tears falling and falling and falling

over something I can’t control.

Ana was telling me that she loves me–

“there’s two of us in this relationship, you can’t do this to us”.

she was howling the whole time, grabbing onto me all night,

leaving black and blue stretch marks, begging me to stay, not to leave.

for I was the only thing she had the ability to control, nothing more.

“it’s for the best,” I reminded us, and of the pieces of her still ingrained in me

like the little white lines that are peppered all across my arms and legs,

and the web of pessimism that doesn’t seem to end in my mind.

yesterday, Ana was my only confidant. she lulled me into a noxious dance,

and I tucked a lock of brittle hair behind her ear for the final time.

today, I greet the skies with a sob of relief and

I give an olive branch to Ana, the battle coming to an end.

we slow dance goodbye, a pas de deux as realisation transcends –

as we become a fine line of the mind we once were.

By Farzana Ali