iyisi @artingale - Tumblr Blog

Be careful, the devil can hear your prayers too.

He doesn't always come with horns and pitchfork.

Sometimes, he comes dressed up like everything you've ever wanted.

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The wound is where the light enters.

The light doesn't knock, doesn't inform;

It wanders, travels; wherever it goes,

there's a trail left for eyes to follow.

Darkness is a path light doesn't travel

Doesn't mean it is empty

Doesn't mean it is suffocating

Darkness is a space devoid of light, just that.

It is yet full of hope, dreams, and the

patience to wait, to long

and to love,

again.

To live,

again.

The wound is where the light enters.

At times, I squint.

At times, I search.

At times, it brightens my world.

At times, the absence of it is enough.

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Full poem here!

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I'm so mad at how I will never be able to accept “Any love I gave you is yours to keep." That is such a sweet thing to say, to do; but my wounded heart wails otherwise. How am I supposed to comprehend sharing pieces of me? How am I supposed to concede to being half empty? Any love I've given you is mine. Any love I've given you would ache to run back. Any love I've given you would knock on your heart and remind you of its habitat. Any love I give... will always be engraved.

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Something in my mother's blood for calling me "selfish" to even decide to choose a life for myself lingers in my arteries too. The worst parts of me are from my mother. And I'm too selfish to give her that credit.

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Where do I find a love that's just love. Not something that sucks attention, blood and tears. Just love. Not something that lusts over flesh, skin and fat. Not something that leaves one at the altar of death. A love, even at its goodbye, is love.