Kash Baloch — Poetry on Identity, Love, and Survival

Dearest Sam, I know it's been a while since I've written, but you always said that complacency was the enemy of our condition. How are you doing, my beauty queen? I hope that you and Moona are dancing on the sun, that you have seen the world together, and that you are having endless fun. It's been nearly four years to the day that I last saw your face, when your soul expired and decided that you'd had enough of this dreary place. You were barely forty, a life taken from us far too soon, at night, I lie awake in bed, and imagine us running hand in hand, exploring the surface of the moon. Even though you may be gone, you have never been this alive, your laughter in my mind is so loud sometimes, that I can almost swear that you survived. Living in this city that we shared, everywhere I go is home to your ghost, those are the moments I hold on to the tightest, that is when I miss you most. The heartache of losing you will never disappear, although I...

In the beginning, we were like little children experiencing blowing bubbles for the very first time.  Our innocence was endearing, as we discovered what it meant to feel alive.  Every breath contained the promise of adventure, and every conversation revealed hidden treasures.  I was so foolish, in retrospect, to believe that we could not run out of pleasure. You found me, and it was like our hearts had always beaten as one, I could’ve sworn we shared a pulse, our days were filled with endless fun. Soon, we would finish one another’s sentences, and knew each other inside out.  I could name all of your favourite songs, and retell stories of your childhood without getting any details wrong. We were accomplished lovers, and communicated with great skill. There was no need for roller coasters, you already filled me with such thrill. Our friends would often refer to us as a pair, and whenever I needed you, I’d turn and you were already th...