Then the Lamp Starts to Look Strange

You may not feel the same but I’m grateful I loved you and held that space beside you for as long as fate allowed. (If you don’t know what “then the lamp starts looking weird” means, look it up.)

You are so kind to me - unbelievably so

and I don’t know what to do with that

you’ve always been fierce, sharp, unyielding,

but in the recent years we’ve known each other,

you have rarely been kind.

And yet tonight, you are.

You say you understand

how much you devastated me.

And while you know I was never perfect,

I only ever loved you faithfully,

wanted nothing more than to stand by your side.

You tell me you finally understand how much your words used to wound,

and I believe you, not because you say it sweetly,

but because this time you stay.

You don’t leave.

You don’t abandon me in the dark when you are angry the way you used to.

And I am surprised.

Startled, really.

Because I thought the next time I’d see your face

would be in the moments just before I died

a flicker of mercy or maybe a cruel joke from God.

You always promised me the stars,

but you left before I could ever reach them.

You hated me more than you honored your promises,

and I learned to stop asking.

But this time, you don’t walk away.

You stay.

There are still a hundred reasons why we’re wrong for each other,

why we should never work, why we burn more than we bloom,

but you look at me and say,

“Damn with those, I only need one reason to be with you.”

And for the first time in years,

you see me clearly.

You see that my love was always soft, always loyal,

always trembling but still holding on.

You see that I was never your sworn enemy,

only ever your witness: flawed but faithful.

And somehow, this time,

that is enough.

The world still tries to pull us apart,

but you don’t let go.

You hold my hand in the quiet,

and you tell me the same words you once whispered in the dark

when we were nineteen and full of fire:

“It’s not dark all the way.

We still have a long way to go.

Our goal is to do all the things old people do together.”

And you never let go.

So many people opposed us.

So many voices told us we would fall apart again.

But this time, you didn’t let me fight for us alone.

We get married - finally after it fell apart twice.

Third time's the charm, am I right?

We do the things we planned in five years,

when the world still felt like a story we hadn’t told yet.

Finally, it is the heaven we envisioned.

Even when we stumble, we are still us.

Imperfect, but two halves of the same whole.

Familiar, and full of wonder.

You trust me.

You believe in me like you used to,

before the world made you practical and cruel.

You aren’t that man I know anymore.

You are the boy who once said,

“No one else exists in this world. Just us for eternity.”

And this time, it is true.

We don’t need anything else.

We have our own little world,

a soft-glowing universe made only of love.

We name our children with “I” just like us

just like we always said we would.

Angels that are like both of us as we imagined they'd be,

and something brand new.

The world outside doesn't matter anymore.

We have everything.

We are the versions of ourselves we used to dream about.

Not bitter, not tired

but full of hope, full of light.

We do everything we promised each other

when we were kids pretending to be forever.

And this time, forever stayed.

You told me I was your only family,

and you make good on that vow.

We build a home, not just four walls,

but a living, breathing world of warmth and laughter.

I have never been so happy in my life.

There is nothing else I could ever want.

We go to bed one night holding each other tight,

glowing with contentment as if nothing can split us apart.

The kind that wraps around your bones like peace.

And I look at you as you sleep for hours

peaceful, asleep, happy

and I lean forward to turn off the light.

But then

the lamp starts looking strange.

© 2025 Inaba Tarek