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“The first time I heard you laugh,
I only wanted to say funny things
so you would always be laughing.
You know what happens to chocolate
when you leave it out in the sun?
I’m that unfortunate chocolate
and you, you are the laughing sun.
For this reason, I am offering myself to you
not as a martyr or some selfless fool,
but as a self-indulgent moth
who actively pursues the light
without much fear for the flame.
The moth who revels in the heat
and declares:
Burn me.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“How is it
that there was never you
until there was
and then all was you?”
― Kamand Kojouri

“Poetry is jealous of you tonight,
for as soon as I come
to pen a few words,
your perfume attacks me
in the most civilised manner
and I forget myself.
I forget the poem.
I forget the ...”
― Kamand Kojouri

“I've written you sixty-seven love poems.
Here’s another one for you.
But really, for me.
These poems are the candles that I light
with the fire you have ignited in me.
I place this candle here and another there
so even if the stars have argued with the moon
and are sulking away in a corner,
you can still find your way to me.
Sixty-eight poems now. What
does the future hold for us?
Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?
I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more.
For what is the point of love
if by lighting these candles
our own flame loses its brightness?
I know the good is more than the bad.
Much more.
I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.”
― Kamand Kojouri