I cried for seven nights
after you left. In a holy
book, I would have
come out as a prophet after
the eighth. But I’m only a
woman in love. I came out
weary, unloved,
puffy eyed and nobody
believed in me.

A Prophet in the Making by Thamanna Razak

Sweetest moments of my
childhood summers
is the wondering.
What did he think when
man spread butter on bread
for the first time?
I wonder, licking
warm butter off
my fingers.
Was he delighted in
watching it melt
on the bread
and then in his mouth?
Did he invite his children?
Did he call on to his wife
and said darling, do you want
to taste love?
Here it is.
Did she always
remember his love,
in every slice of bread
she spread butter on
and tasted in her mouth?
Did she wake up every morning
longing for it?
Did she grow fat from it?
Did they make love regardless?

History of Bread , Butter and Love by Thamanna Razak

Picture Credit – macross-82.tumblr.com

Tell me this, was I not
beautiful for you? I kept
my eyes wet for you
and my mouth open
for a kiss. I let my hair
down. My tresses,
they grew darker on your
touch. Was I not,
the woman of your dreams?
Or was it that you had
no dream at all,
that your dreams died
at the end of your fingertips,
at the start of my skin.
Was it that you were
only an animal,
in the skin of a man?
And I, a sweet smelling prey.

Prey by Thamanna Razak

The next time we love,
I will love you in
bread slices and mulled wine.
Strawberry jam in my
mouth and it means
in your mouth, because darling,
in the next life our lips
never part and if they do
they part only to call
each other’s names.
The next time we love
I will love you through big
windows and white sunshine
on your back, my cheek
pressed up against it.
I will love you in our backyard
between the blossoms
with my dirt stained hands.
I will love you on lazy Fridays,
in the rice that I will put to boil
just like my mother’s.
I will love you in long hours
at dining tables and large families.
The next time we love, oh darling
I promise to love you soft and warm.
The next time we love, I will never
have to write this poem,
only live it.

In the Next Life by Thamanna Razak

How can I love you, darling?
Desire on desire,
longings on longings.
In the intensity of
this moment, this espresso
this sea, this sweet éclair,
all my causes die
one by one with
the tides that crash
on the rocks and
turn into foam.
I love you, I love you,
but oh, you are
so formidable.
Darling , I want you,
but be a good husband,
for that is the only cause
I will wound my desire for,
for holy marriage,
for another woman
in love. Another woman,
who gave you her vows
her youth, her children
and her love. I will not
take her heart and replace
with mine. I remember
what God wants. I understand
her pain more than I understand
my desire. Darling,
I am to die for but
the only cause I’m willing
to die for,  is another woman’s.

To Die for by Thamanna Razak

My good heart broke
in your good hands.
And I forgive you
for leaving it
behind, where it
could come together
without your hands
bleeding into it.
I forgive you for
leaving it where
it belongs, under the
lamp of our
memories. I forgive
you for leaving and
for taking your hands
with you. For my childish
heart would betray
itself in the warmth
of your hands, my love.
It would stay broken
for all of eternity to
be in the cusp of
what broke it.

My Heart is a Betrayer by Thamanna Razak

My mother sometimes forget
to pray good for me
and those are the nights
I let him hurt me and
I worship him. His heart
is my home
and he denies me of it.
My mother turns in her sleep
for the blasphemy.

-Blasphemy by Thamanna Razak