Copyright © 2019 Nur Hassanain. 
All rights reserved.


My name is velvet in your throat.

You look different.

Not like the man I once knew.

Your pupils are frosted glass

& the distance has never been further.

There is a king sized bed in this room,

The juxtaposition of pristine cathedrals

& skyscrapers around the bay,

& your breathing lungs a mile & a half away.

On the first night, I sleep on the left side.

Your voice is silky on the second,

& on the third day I realize you found your way out

of this love we were stranded on.

Your name is leather on my tongue. But saying it is no longer useful.

It is somebody else’s skin

I photograph the streets on the fourth day.

& all the places we’ve never been.

My farewell is a dream of Japanese gardens & white tea,

Scooters on the Embarcadero

& a conversation on a still night in your balcony.