I still yearn for her while she spreads her dark fragrance in the place. She does not weary from caressing my lips in the morning and evening. My mistress in my loneliness and my geniality. I have known her since I was a child, playing with my fingers and sleeping after I close my eyes first.

I wonder if she would remember me after I leave this life. Would she be with her period of mutual devotion, or she would look for another lover? Would she find whoever gives her love as my love and Iraqi purely pain and mellowed as my pain?

They say leave her, you will die….

Who has the right to say that she does not love you?

Moreover, who came up with such foolishness that she is trying to kill me?

The Ignorant are ignorant, they do not know the thrill of love that kills.

They watch my breath now and listen to the heartbeat device that it ties me and twisted to the bed, while I swim in the worlds of limitless memories, in bags that travelled with me all over the world, in the books that are still awaiting for me, in the promise that I made with death which I won’t think about until I read the last page written in this world.  Still have lots of thing waiting for me.

In addition, I waiting for her too; I am craving her now as a child flawed the first white life potion of his mother’s breast. I am craving for her to share me my last pain, my last sorrow, and my last day that I painted with contrasting fantasy paintings.

How much she travelled with me to sit in luxury plane without moving, how much she wandered with me in AL-MUTANABI Street and magician ABI NOAS Street, and how much she cursed my cup of wine and the saltiness of my tears…how can I give up  this legendary love?

The heart device will tinkle with continuous buzzing sound for a while, my soul shall rise from the flesh, and they will say:

Die

Die

Die

They rush around to share some of the last tears, and then I will know I really looks like her, I will fly in the sky like the smoke of the cigar that I crave. I will hide like her skull, which burns inside me now; you will turn the earth into ashes of memories as her ashes. I really looks like her.

However, all of us in this world, cigarette cloud that does not rise until the wind clears it.