hollow bones scarred mind

I'm Nate and 19. I write sometimes. Poetry, coffee and indie rock on a cozy fall day over human contact, always.

[codebllack]

you know the games we played as children where if we hid our faces we’d think the world can’t see us but they could see us, prey on us and even though we’d thought we were safe within our darkness we weren’t - we were vulnerable - I’ve got my eyes closed and fingers crossed tonight I’m praying to be invisible

- sometimes I’m ashamed of living // nashia f.

[yidan]

[minuty]

[hplyrikz]

There’s a brief moment when you first wake up where you have no memories, a blissful blank slate, a happy emptiness, but it doesn’t last long and you remember exactly where you are and what you are trying to forget.

Carrie Bradshaw, The Carrie Diaries (via hplyrikz)

[7-ac]

[codebllack]

[poemsbyna]

How it all started

The first time I kissed him In an empty room with his hands Over my breasts and my back pressed on The walls And his mouth deep inside mine All I thought that all we’d ever be Is lustful

Then came the gazing days Over to the rushing cars, to the blinking stars And into each other’s eyes Burning like a thousand moons And all I questioned is, “Will ‘us’ be ever possible?”

Days rolled and we were holding hands Nah, tracing each other’s veins with Gentle fingers As if trying to tell him something I’m afraid To confess to myself As if gripping his palms tight would suffocate him Maybe he isn’t just ready

We were still childlike Screaming names and telling each other How we’d pin the other down and let ourselves be pleased Him Licking the colours off my lips Me Tracing my hands up his thighs Him Telling me how we have a spark Me Skipping a heart beat

Then came the days when he’d help open his car door Kiss my forehead when I cried Telling me it’s okay​, it’s okay to fall apart Once in a while And that I would always have his chest To fall back into Whenever it hurt too much

And as much as it scared me, One night One night, I confessed “I think I’m in love with you” Him “I forever was” And we knew, we were much more Much more than elevator make outs And end-of-school dirty jokes

We were a spark

- nashia f.

[poemsbyna]

But good people do bad things. That’s how the world gets so fucked up.

nashia f.

[poemsbyna]

I wanted to tell her I am sorry. I am sorry for all those times I hurt her because I was incapable of understanding the love she had for me. I wanted to tell her I love her. So much. The most. I wanted to tell her about the-bland my life would taste if she leaves. When she leaves. But I wanted her to step out into the wide world as much as I wanted her to cling to me. I wanted her to go follow her heart, her dreams as much as I feared her fall. But I realized she’d fall if only I clipped her wings.

- Letters to my beloved sister a thousand miles away || by Nashia F.

[poemsbyna]

Some people choose to hide their anger. Their frustration, their annoyance. Their bad parts. Some people choose to hide who they are and most of them can. And yeah, I get it. It’s good to be able to hide the bad parts sometimes for the sake of good manners. But some people push this hypocrisy as far as making it their facade. And I hate it. I hate how they can completely curl up under their disguise while people who aren’t afraid to show who they are, get misunderstood and it breaks my heart. They break my heart. Because I can’t hide who I am and I won’t. I will unapologetically expose my goodness and my worst. Because I want to know who can handle them. Who can love them, and who can love me. And so far, no one has.

- Am I wrong to have been wanting to be heard || by Nashia F.

[poemsbyna]

The Apology America wants

Dear America We are Muslims And we are sorry

We are sorry to have believed that America breeds love and respect For every race, religion and culture Sorry to have believed that in this country we are free As a citizen, as a traveller, as an immigrant As a human being We are sorry to have had hopes in a country some of us flew thousands of miles to In pursuit of their American dreams We are sorry to have worked with you hand in hand In economy, health care, public sector, international affairs, business And helped you make America, the America it is today We are sorry to have loved America

Yes, contrary to what many of you choose to believe Muslims do love America Many of us have made friends with Americans Some of us married Americans And a lot of us are born and bred in America; they have loved every nook and crannies of America and if needed they would fight for America Not as a Muslim, but as an American

Don’t get us wrong (like you always do) We are truly sorry For the innocent lives you’ve lost For the blood that was shed, for the terror many of you have lived in And still do No amount of apology can heal the mourning hearts But know that the terrorists are not Muslims They are CRIMINALS A man is not just his religion Islam is perfect but Muslims are not

So we are sorry that for some malicious corrupted individuals You have failed to see the greatness our religion offers A religion where the obligation to help the neighbors, the sick, the needy Is one of the fundamental pillers Where it is obligatory upon us to serve the humanity irrespective of race religion culture and colors

Our religion forbids killing of women, children, the old and the unarmed Even in war Let alone killing innocents Here forgiveness is taught and love is practiced Our holy Scripture screams Do good, do good, do good Don’t kill, don’t hurt, don’t do injustice Quran mentions “forgiveness” twice more than “punishment” Every chapter speaks of mercy, love and bounty We are the followers of a religion where we are rewarded even just for smiling at people

Dear america You’ve banned muslims But your soldiers still walk our lands You have threw us away But we have honoured our guests snd bled bled and bled But you still want an apology From the dead bodies your guns killed From the dead bodies that stink of strong stench Over which orphans grive Deads that haven’t been buried yet You want an apology from your oppressed, your victims From the living who are as good as dead

So heres the apology you wanted And no we don’t want the apology you owe us And despite that We are sorry that we still believe in you Because there are many of you who believe in us There are many of you who are willing to fight for our rights There is still mercy in the good hearts of America that can encomoass the humanity There are, right now many Americans who are deeply troubled too About the storms their land is passing through But dear America If you want to be Great again Some of you need to broaden your minds too - Nashia F.

[thelovejournals]

I miss everything. I miss talking to her, hearing about her day. I miss her voice all gravelly and smoky, I miss hearing her laugh, I miss getting her letters, writing her letters. I miss her eyes, and the smell of her hair, and the way her breath tasted. I f*cking miss everything. I miss knowing she was around, because it helped me to know that she was around, someone like her existed. I guess most of all, I miss knowing I would see her again. I always thought I’d see her again

James Frey, My Friend Leonard (via thelovejournals)

[poemsbyna]

To the boy who broke my heart: I think it's finally okay

If you’re hurting again tonight, staring at the ceiling and playing old songs over and over again - then know that you’re no longer alone. To you she was beautiful. In a way I could never be. She was an embodiment of everything you could have ever asked for, and she was a part of you, you never thought would lose. And after all these months I finally understand why you chose her. Even though it doesn’t change the fact that you hurt me. But now that I’m in your shoes, this new pain is more real, more excruciating. Despite that, neither of us want it to stop hurting because this suffering is the remnants of the one who left. The one who’s never coming back. They left and they can’t hear us screaming and begging and they are glad they can’t. But you and I, we know something. We know that once we choose to stop suffering, the part of them that we still carry will slip away from us. This is why pain is inevitable. And sometimes, contrary to what wise men say, suffering is too.

- Nashia F.

[poemsbyna]

And every night, sharp pangs of pain shot through my chest. A deep longing rose from my unquenchable thirst, for his mouth down my waist - cradling the heaven between my legs, gently, with his tongue. He grew out like a limb from my belly, forcing me down on all four, begging for more.

He spelled me by Nashia A.

[poemsbyna]

He reached across and for a moment I thought he would grab my breast and make me a slave to him. But he reached across, alert and fearless - and stroked my heart. His fingers sent shockwaves down my pericardium. My heart fluttered and then set racing at once. The most beautiful thing was to hear my own heart beats between his palms, after a long, long slumber.

Nashia A.

[poemsbyna]

Chasing the high

After all, there were many things we could lose in a day. Within the blink of an eye. Instantaneously. And the list is insanely long. Everyone has something to lose to the void. Even the ones who say they don't. So what is it that keeps us from going crazy when we lose it all? What is it that keeps us together at all? Is it addiction? Art, habits or passion? We're all searching for something we can pour our hearts into. Something that will slice open our hearts and let our stories drip down like yolk. Trickle down like blood from the end of a scalpel. But at the end of a day, we realize it's the high we're chasing. It's the rush, the thrill, the surge - like pulses in our veins. Our pure animal instincts compell us to scratch, crawl, tear at every stone and flesh till we find our high. We put the last of our belongings on stake and go for the high. So here's the science behind this primordial human behavior. We chase the high because something inside us is hurting. And if it's hurting then it means we still have something to lose.

[poemsbyna]

It's another sleepless night and I'm hurting

Truth is, you never really loved me. My name never stung in your heart. It never skipped a beat in its utterance. Being around me never made your palms sweaty, your knees weak or your blood rushing. When it rained, you never felt the urge to take me by the hands and kiss me. To let our favorite songs repeat on the radio. You never wanted to tell me your deepest secrets, your darkest fetishes. Big dreams, small wishes. Everytime you saw something beautiful or exceptional, you never thought about me first. My absence was never loud enough in your ears. I was just another poet wasting words on you. Just another girl you took for granted because you thought she’ll stick around. She’s needy after all. Truth is, you never really loved me baby. And it was quite silly of me to think otherwise.

- Nashia f.