We're in the dim-lighted room
in the house, drinking mint tea and
snuggling on pillows.
The power's been off for
two days straight,
and we're running out of candles.
The neighborhood is winter-quiet,
shops closed, children asleep,
stray cats hiding in car engines,
and garbage bags.
You could hear the wind moving.
You could see the fog erasing the city.
You lean on me,
your hand touches mine
to make sure it's still warm enough.
Soon, the city will lose what's
left of it's voice, and
we'll be running out of
and mint tea,
but we are in the house, together,
your hand in mine,
and that's worth living in
the dark for.
Noura, the details and specific things you mention always make your writes that more intimate.... and full of meaning. I love how even in the reality that the city's voice will soon be silent and will soon leave you, that there is still a purpose in the darkness. Even if the city isolates others, you have each other. Even if everything else is depleting, you won't be <3