by Rawa Yousfi
With arms wrapped around me, slowly sucking the air out of my lungs and suffocating me, there was no other choice but surrender. This hug, this act of love and compassion seems to be too strong for my heart to resist. I surrender. I surrender to a friend who I once considered an enemy. I can still feel his knife in my back, piercing my skin. I am in between love and treason, but I surrender myself. I don’t know what I surrender myself to. It could be heaven, it could be hell. Perhaps it’s a mixture of both: him.
With arms wrapped around me, slowly sucking the air out of my lungs and suffocating me, there was no other choice but surrender. This hug, this act of love and compassion seems to be too strong for my heart to resist. I surrender. I surrender to a friend who I once considered an enemy. I can still feel his knife in my back, piercing my skin. I am in between love and treason, but I surrender myself. I don’t know what I surrender myself to. It could be heaven, it could be hell. Perhaps it’s a mixture of both: him.
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