One night, I had a dream.
I opened my eyes to your beauty—
or maybe I didn’t.
I couldn’t tell.
You were there,
filling the room like breath after prayer.
And suddenly,
I knew what heaven might feel like.

Your lips—
not sweet like ice cream,
but dangerous,
like a sin I’d commit twice.
I touched your waist,
felt the shape of your hips,
and my soul said: Hallelujah.

Your skin—
not soft like stories say,
but thick with truth,
with earth,
with everything real.
None of those other girls compare—
they were mirrors.
You?
You’re the reflection.

You are beauty—
not the idea of it,
the blueprint.
And though I never knelt in pews or prayed in mosques,
you make me repent,
every day.
Because what good is this world
without you in it?

I sent my prayers up—
to Allah, to the stars,
to whoever would listen.
And just when I thought the silence would echo back—
Sha replied.