You can leave.
You can leave whenever you please.
And I will write poetry about you,
About me,
And about how things could be.
In a year or so,
I’ll definitely forget you!
Just like I had forgotten who you were
Before I had met you.

Kushtrim Thaqi - Prishtina

in flight

I could smell lavender under my chin, book, hands, feet, concrete; as I was staring six houses down where my neighbor who sells weed was playing with his doves just like he did when he was a kid and they flew… ah, they always do; joint in hand, he flew too.

Kushtrim Thaqi - Metaphysics


when everything falls in place
people, words, memories…
and the thoughts that usually squirm inside out of everyone’s heads
cease to be, at that point,
right then! the idea of what we could become
dies with the human that is we.

Kushtrim Thaqi - Lamp


it was supposed to be Summer
but it couldn’t be.
lights flickering far away somewhere were not lights
howls were fake cries at the carefree distant moon
bats were pretending to dance, going in circles
screeching as they flew,
and droplets of rain came out to play.