Alain Delon Poem by Za7ra Sulaiman

Saw him then—in the rightest light,
as if God stepped aside so I could take a better look.
He looked like Alain Delon—
sharp as a blade,
eyes like a cold blue fire.
The kind of man who ruins you
with elegance.

He laughed—low, deliberate—
pen between his fingers,
coughed once, twice—
and then knelt before me,
not with desperation,
but something far more dangerous:
invitation.
'Will you do what you promised? '
Like I was the only vow he meant to keep.

Kiss me on the mouth like I'm a vice
and you've been good for far too long.
Love me like a sailor—
lonely, unsaved,
reeking of salt and want.
I may not kneel in mosques or churches—
but when you look at me,
I swear I believe in something.

Mama says she's worried—
but I'm cloaked in your favor,
wearing it like perfume
that only burns when you touch me.

When we're tangled,
the world stops knowing my name.
I sleep to see you again—
hate the hours that keep you from me.
I sleep because dreams are kinder
than distance.

You took my fingers to your mouth—
slow, precise—
the way a man touches art
he doesn't deserve.
And still, you devoured.

I've tried other poisons—
but none kill sweet like you.
None linger in my bloodstream
like your name.

Kiss me like I'm all you've got—
and you just remembered what it means to starve.
Tell me what I taste like
when your tongue forgets lies.
You say you're worried—
but darling, you're soaked in my favor now,
and I hope it drowns you soft.

Let's disappear
into the velvet walls of your childhood—
I'll be the cat,
you the fleeting shadow I chase.
We'll laugh at what we never lived
and pretend it was ours all along.
If we burn—
let it be slow,
with mouths locked,
and hands that never learned how to let go.