Zubair Ali

You are a poppy flower.
In that red-wine attire,
You fan the flames of my desire.
When you unlash your hair,
...

We lay in the field of sorrows.
Our faces scrabbed with blades of grief.
On the brink of desires
The hot steam of memories rip off our flesh
...

With drugs I kill my heart
For a few drops of delight.
To quench my crimson thirst,
I prick my veins
...

I stumble over my tears,
I am unconscious,
Helpless like my hallucinations
Banged by bombs,
...

I will be with you
When you die.
I will spark in your grave
Like a longing of life
...

Shallows of sadness and pied pain
Have numbed the skin of my soul.
I collect the broken pieces of my heart
In the crucible of my dreams,
...

Beauty is the dome of happiness.
A truth, forever, in the fist of youth.
When dark despair
in moonless night screams,
...

Suddenly leaves fall in autumnal tune
And spring of love burns with zest.
Paleness wanders in my veins,
And I collide with grief.
...

My soul scatters
Into the colors of sunset,
Leaving a pigment
Of desires at the horizon.
...