Ya'aburnee
You ever love another individual so much that the you fear being without them?
At some point, if you’re lucky, I hope that you will love another with such fervor
Arabic is unlike English in that five common ways to say “I love you” involve death.
Right! You read it correctly. Arabic is wonderfully extreme in its poetic expressions.
Bamoot Feek, for example, means, “I die in you.” Alternately, I love you to death.
uHibbu translated into English from Arabic means “I love…”.
Really passionate, all-consuming expressions of love. I’ve made insane out of loving you.
Next, Syrians say, Ya’arburnee translated means, “May you bury me”. So I may never
Experience what it would be like to lose you.
Even when you enrage me, I would die to get more than half mad at you.
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The Sexy Opportunist
One lonely night when I returned home. I noticed my roommate’s door was closed; I heard moans. Curiosity piqued, I wanted to learn with whom did my roommate score. Six Thursdays passed, without feeling another’s lips, hips, or ass. I dinned alone. Few hours past, I gasped when I saw who exited my roommate’s door. A guy I knew, year ‘round, not a thing to do. Not thinking, my roommate gave him room. For three months, the sexy opportunist just consumed. To rid the leech, required complex speech, and thinking steps ahead to escape the thief.
One lonely night when I got home,
I noticed my roommate wasn’t alone, and
Though his door was closed
And my TV on…
Nearly three hours of taxing tormentorstorturous taunts of the Tormentors--
Moans, Grunts, and Groans, the terrible.
The truth, to you, I will confess.
The scents and sounds of sweaty sex
First my BP perking. Next, the long planked man start working.
Alas, poor me.
All waste!
Such a mad, sad, clawing state.
Too fast—yearning would have no slake.
Damn! I had to pump that brake.
I said, “Turn.
Change, now,
Redirect your think.”
Hmm… Who…..?
I wonder, who he’s with
Playing… Romper Room with?
Cute, at the least, I knew he would be.
Roomie on good days, ] known to bag three.
Another hour passed, then, Bang! He flew out fast.
Though not that to shake me in his wake.
My sight caused fright, then, dread.
For bitter melon memories filled my head.
I knew that dragging long-knuckled man.
At least he’s gone. Hurray! Dame Fate has smiled my way.
What’s that? Oh no. Ah, great! The night was very late.
That meant my roomie more than one thing had been parted.
For then, quite clear, the situation was to me.
My stick-trained roomie had invited knuckles Louie to share a little room.
Three months on Dante’s fifth row hell, required me to gaze long front, metaphorically.
I crafted, wove, enchanted, Om’d, a quasar bright false tale.
In order to escape the looming, dooming, opportunist’s hail.