Am i something you’ll be missing?

“Am I something you’ll be missing?”
I wanted to ask him, standing in the midst of the mall and all he can see are my eyes, beneath my nikaab.
Maybe the test of faith was to begin then,
in the contemplation of this new dress that adorned me,
that shielded me from the gaze of the world.
Under which I felt safe.
Losing my identity as a person,
but joining the colossal bigger identification…
My dressing spoke to the world, not saying
“I am Hasina”,
but speaking volumes at a glance,
saying…”I AM a MUSLIM”

It was silly to have lifted up the veil, having cornered him… to let him view my face once more.
Contradicting the real reason for dressing the way I did
I’m not proud to have stepped over the boundary.
The shock on his visage… ‘You can’t be serious’;
the questioning look,
bemused smile.
Walking with me, melting into ‘us’ again.

‘I miss you’ its all I can think, yet in the reality within which he was hiding from the truth,
Merely writing out a ghost chapter of his life for the world to read,
for them to believe;
Betraying his own heart, his wants, and our love
- Married forever to the expectations of others -
and giving in to Fate’s ultimate cruel decisions.

We do what needs to be done for life to be functional,
at the price of happiness.
I CAN BUY HAPPINESS!
But I can’t bribe fate.

I’m caressing the mixture of pain,
loss,
the deep resonating passion mixed with joy…
the elation…
the euphoria of drowning in his gaze.
The confusion lingering behind my veil as he’s drinking in my presence…

‘Your eyes betray you’, he says.
As if he can still look into the recesses of my feelings,
My secrets, my heart, my soul, my self… always bare to him.

Holding my gaze, shattering it again like the first meeting.
Disappearing into time and distance on parallel paths
that will curve
and wind
and meet again.

Within his words,
My every dream of us,
dying upon his lips . . .

Nunscio Quid sit Amore…. Mi Amore.