Lyana Fay

Art & Music / Writer / Model / Philosophy / Psychology / Aesthetics / Old soul / Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lyanafay/ Contact: [email protected]

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In a manner of speaking I just want to say, that I could never forget the way you told me everything by saying nothing. In a manner of speaking, I don't understand how love in a silence becomes reprimand. But the way that I feel about you is beyond words. #nouvellevague Your lips are so dry, let me to spread some balm on your lips from those mine.

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I paint green apples red. Each shade from a different person's head. "What if I'm crazy? - Well, the best people are" #aliceinwonderland #meaning #fairytale #metaphor #bow #red #lolita #garden #apples #photoshoot #inspired #truth #lie #death #book #reading #retro #melaniemartinez #aesthetic #pinup #doll https://www.instagram.com/p/BwSN2OLBiHz/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=xbolvo89sqea

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'The Playwright' #lyanafaypoetry · · · · · · #writer #writersofinstagram #poet #emotionalclub #truth #liar #psychology #philosophy #theatre #society #philosopher #quote #poetryfoundation #poetry #poemoftheday #lies #play #poetryisnotdead #playwright #poetrycommunity https://www.instagram.com/p/BwPtSuLB_vE/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ls2m2nhb5xcz

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Why do I still coming back to you as if I was that special tiny type of hummingbird, that needs its own type of flower to suck the nectar from its mouth? The mouth of the most exotic flower that you can hardly find. But you can't tear off this kind of flower; take it home with you, put it in a vase and expect that it will grows beautifully just by offering some water and light. It needs its own space and amout of time to grow. The irony is that if you were a flower, you would't look like any of those exotic ones. You're too rare to be anyone but you. You wouldn't even waste your time considering to change yourself into mainstream, just because it's more eatable. A component that doesn't fit into the system; comfortably. From my perspective; you would have been coloured like Lantana Camara; tanned by July in a way as if you were looking straight to the Sun; searching for its face. You would have tasted like chilli and cinnamon and overripe apples that grows on the trees along the scruffy village roads. And you would have smelled like the air smells after rain in the hot heavy summer afternoons, when some fall asleep in the wet backyard even so; on their open books and blankets full of busy ants. And when some play soccer in the wet dust of those same scruffy village roads, where bloody knees are there for the most important life lessons. For the best memories. The kind of memories that nobody creates these days. You would understand all of this if I would ever tell you. How you listen to me, like sometimes, when we have one of those long night talks and I think that you are probably sleepy anaway and you're loosing your concentricity, you suddenly take me by surprise with little things you notice. You hit me like a lightning, just like that. You catch my thought just like the spider catches his fly. Before I even open my mouth only to try to describe something that makes me troubles to roll over my tongue. It goes beyond my comprehension. How can someone fit so perfectly to your mind? Like a puzzle. Like nature cycles. - You're like a memory I don't wanna give up. ~ Lyana Fay

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'It's A Mind Process. Strain Your Brain'

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Oľia, 2015 (40 x 49 cm) Lyana Fay

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Lyana's Theme (1969) 🌻🌻🌻

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It wasn't because Eve was disobedient when she tore off the forbidden fruit. She just knew what she wanted and she got it. So it's confirmed. We have it in our blood since ancient times. Girls. Will. Do. Whatever. They. Want 💪 Plus, my look says that I wasn't afraid to bite the damn forbidden apple and I won't be even afraid to bite you. You dare to try me? 😈😇

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'Are You An Artist Or A Stylish Person?'

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'Human Folly'

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Chilli itching my fingertips. Thunderstorms running up my hips. This raw salt, I'm licking from the corners of my lips. But mornings here are sugar sugary sweet as the local ice cream on the main street. While roses are blushing in my veins, I'm walking through Lantana camara lanes. The birds in my throat are having non ending concerts, and the Sun and the sand, are wrapping up in the maze of my curls.

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I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, "Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again" Well, my frozen leaves have already woken up for the summer, but now the summer seems to be asleep. ~ Lyana Fay

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‘What might have been and what has been Point to one end, which is always present Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose garden.’

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‘If he’s a serial killer that what’s the worst, that could happen to a girl who’s already hurt? I’m already hurt. If he is as bad as they say then I guess I’m cursed, looking into his eyes, I think he’s already hurt, he’s already hurt.’

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'Emotionally Unavailable'

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'Natural Social Cycle'

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'They Can't Hurt Already Broken Heart'