13,14,15th – Hijri

You know what I love?

I love when my wall is well differentiated,

For only three nights every month. 

You can clearly see the sharp edges.

A full, mature, and complete pearl;

The only time where I’m not consumed, 

By the power of the world’s darkness, 

Or is it the power of my doubts and insecurities?

A wall that protects me from my uncertainties?

A wall that tests your capability to enter solely, 

Without leaking that darkness within, 

And ensure my safety. 

A wall that shuts out anything and anyone, 

Buy you. 

A wall and body that illuminates clearly, 

Inviting you in. 

That strong glare you see

Represents my stretched arms.

And those flawed dents

Are my empty embrace, 

Waiting for you to take the hint to 

Come here. 

Come here. 

So come here, baby, 

And let me watch over you up close. 

Baby girl. 

60 weeks.

60 weeks ago was the last time

I’ve truly and unconditionally 

Loved you.

And only recently

Have I thought about 

Giving myself a shot 

In renewing that love.

You are my baby sister

After all.

You are the youngest

Therefore you are spoilt by default.

But I guess

I never was keen on children

Between grade 2 and 7.

I just hope my husband

Will know how to raise our kids

When they’re between those years.

I can either treat beings as kids

Or as adults

I don’t do halfways 

Beings who are figuring out

Whether they’re big guys now

And want everything 

As they want it to be

Because they’re in that 

Kid’s rebellious stage,

Pfft. It does not work with me. 

Especially if you’re an XX. 

Teen’s rebellious stage, I can handle.

But definitely not the kid’s one,

That. I’d leave for their father

To figure out. 

And so basically, baby girl,

What I’d like to say is that

I miss you.

I miss your petite hands 

Holding mine. 

I miss how you treated me

The same way as Mom. 

I miss how you just did what I told you

Without any argument 

I miss loving you with all my heart

I even miss missing you. 

I miss how I called you everyday

Like you’re a part of me

Like you were my kid. 

I miss you. 

And the thing that kills me

Is that you will eventually grow up.

You’ll grow into a fine 

But rebellious lady.

And if there’s anyone I’d like 

To send to Neverland

So they’d never grow up

Is you.