by Layla Maghribi
What did I see when I went back to see you?
To check if your checkpoints were more than just rumour,
To see if the claims of the chains were just heightened,
To see if the blindfolds on free thoughts were tightened.
What did I taste when I went back to taste you?
The bittersweet tang stinging at the lips,
Reminding the tongue to silently sip
In the words of denial you copiously spit.
What did I hear when I went back to hear you?
Tales of abduction and bumps in the night,
Actions that spoke of a want to spread fright,
Lives plucked into thinness to prove who is right.
What did I smell when I went back to smell you?
The odour of blood spilled from the back,
The stench of aged fear curdling inside,
The acrid burn of wildfire eating your pride.
What did I feel when I went back to feel you?
The stilted air that hung all around you,
And with a stiffened hold of an awkward embrace,
I came back to hug you and found you disgraced.