I didn’t want my parents

To pay the rent,

So I got this job downtown

As a bartender.

That’s where I met her.


And like a cancer, love

grew in my body

In darkness

It propagated in my cells

And exploded.


She was young and artistic

A guitarist, you know

Trying to find herself,

So she used to go out a lot

few minutes before sunset.


One day

during her photon’s shower

She met other guys

And later she came

And I mixed her drink.


Seems like we were not

Playing from the same string

I thought you could

Handle your wine

With a bit of Arsenic.


[ Painting by Fabian Perez ]

Thilleli G.


To tell God about his creation


it is arrogant, I know

but I already found


Come close

and let me tell you

about the one

gathering my broken pieces.

a golden virgin

cracking her hips

of stone

to carry blue men.

a golden virgin

kneeling under

purple skies

and unfaithful clouds.

a golden virgin

destroying time

and other


a golden virgin

to whom I’m nothing


truly myself.

And to be truly


is a drop

of heaven.


( Photo taken by Amine Kouider )

Thilleli G.

Little girl

We walked for hours
on dull lands.
We took the elevator
and reached a rooftop.
People drink cheap,
smoke fast and ask about you,
but little girl forgot
so little girl lies.
She sits,
folded in the waist
like a piece of paper,
takes a quote from the book
she read,
imagines your essence
and smiles…
Forever looking for the lap
I grew in,
like a thread of water
forever looks at its source.


Thilleli G.

Naked Streets

I was afraid you’d hate me
I was afraid I’d like you
so I stayed away
like mama used to say.

But in naked streets
I saw you
walking upon earth
to kiss strangers
who never pronounced
your name right.

I should have told you
that the wounds on your body
form a beautiful starry night
that could swallow all sounds
and all silence.

I should have told you
that I’d walk by your side
that I’d carry your name
when everyone else would forget it
that I want to be your friend.

I love you.

[ Thank you Palm for the picture ]

Thilleli G.

Just another love poem

Next to Nabokov’s “Lolita”
I have cigarettes on my desk,
I inherited my dad’s favorite brand
back in the eighties,
sometimes it is on billboards
with a cup of coffee
like everyone in my hood.
They are put in
red and white
little boxes,
sober letters
to say
Here is the scent of the field
under a sun of May,
Burning, in the open throat of your lover
bringing tears
hefty heads
and failing lungs,
a cloud of love
crushing on the walls.


Thilleli G.

Geography of Paradox

November was crual,
I fell in love,
but loving you is like going to war,
I lost myself.

In the hyphenated land
of Mohammad Al Amin
and St. George,
I lost myself.

In her arms,
mistress of the east,
mistress of the west,
I lost myself.

In the unbearable beauty of
your heavenly streets
and your highways to hell
I lost myself.

[ To Beirut, with love ]

Thilleli G.