It is impossible to distinguish when, but I think
My loss of faith coincided with your arrival. 
Not to say, 
The sacrosanctity of human connection is lost on me. 
But mostly I have 
Learnt to take the smaller, seemingly meaningless moments 
And cherish them instead: 
A walk in the park; 
A kiss on the side of my lips; 
And a doodle in the space between your fingers. 
I have recognized that I rarely ever want 
a lifetime of mornings; Just some mornings: a tea that has been 
steeped for too long, a half eaten slice of bread. 
Or further back, sleepy smiles; 
And, a head resting on my thigh. 
On a wispy morning, sprawling on your bed, 
It strikes me that I never witnessed you mid-sneeze. 
And I would wonder, later
about never seeing your mid-afternoons. 
Etched in the harshest yellow,
With squinted eyes, and sweat-drenched clothes.  
It would amaze me that 
There have been snippets in time 
where I never knew you, and 
Likely would not in the future 
when we part ways. 
Yet, you have seen my bare stomach, and cradled my
head in front of the rays of a dying sun. 
But you will never know the resemblance 
between my mother and I. 
Because you will never meet her. 
I did say that 
My loss of faith coincided with your arrival; 
But lately all I have left is faith.
of an iridescent, tender, and hopeful love.
For you. 
And for me.
A love that is ours, 
but not a love that we will share. 

Raya Mehnaz is a contributor. Find her at mehnazraya008@gmail.com.