
seen from Poland
seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Singapore

seen from France
seen from Norway
seen from China

seen from Vietnam
seen from Yemen

seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany

seen from Singapore
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Spain

seen from Indonesia
seen from China

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
8 days, it took me 8 days to fuck everything up.
i’m a mess. i’m a horrible mess. how did i expect you to be able to love and care for me when i couldn’t return the favorite back. i’m such a mess. i can’t even stay long enough to make you want me the way i want you. god i’m such a mess.
meeting the wrong people at the right time.
i crave you. i crave the touch of your fingers on my skin. i crave the taste of your lips, but i think more than the way you mark my neck, i crave your smiles as i place kisses on your nose to your lips. and god i hope you understand how beautiful you look when your eyes flutter open to stare at me, cause i swear that’s how i know i can’t give myself to anyone else even though i’m not yours and you will probably never be mines. and i know it’s so stupid and i’m probably so fucked, but i can’t get the way you talk outta my head, your voice replays over and over and it doesn’t help that you’re so god damn beautiful. i would be the first to admit how taken i am but you. but i’m afraid of falling, and you’ can’t catch me. so please, please just give me a bit more time. give me a few more days to forget you.
tell me when to stop falling for you.
the butterflies in your stomach won’t stop fluttering when he smiles at you. when he says he misses you, you’ll want to believe him but your guts will scream for you to run as fast as you can. in fact, when he holds your hand, you’ll crave the warmth of his fingers, but he’ll crave your cold body. and when he places his soft lips on yours and kisses you, you fear that you’re going to lose him but the funny thing is, he’s not even yours. however, you stay mute. because, oh god, he’s so beautiful; and he speaks with passion in his eyes, and you’ve lost all the passion in your life. so when you tell him that you’re his, you can’t help but wish he would say he was yours too.
May be I was broken from the very beginning
You once asked me about love. And I remember replying that love was simply a concept invented by humans. I recall you tilt your head and asked me who broke me. I jokenly told you I would go in and get myself fixed. You laughed along and as you placed kisses on my skin, you made me promise to go in as soon as possible and get fixed. And I agreed, because how hard was it to fix something that’s not broken?
Except; when you told me you loved me, I searched for the right words to say back, only to realize I was too broken to fix.
i want it all.
I want to fall asleep counting the endless freckles on your skin; the sound of your heartbeat reminding me how lucky I am to be alived at the same time as you. And I’m pretty sure I will never lose the urge to grab your beautiful face and just plant kisses all over you, kissing you until you lose all those silly fears that we will never work. I pray that I get to wake up every morning and find my smiling reflection in your eyes. And on my darknest days, I will be reminded that you are the ray of light in my life as I lay numb in your warm arms. But more than anything, I hope you allow me to hold your hand and follow you on which ever road you decide to take.
because we're in the same bed but i can't reach you.
please don't ask me to trust you. not when more than half of the men in my life hurt the women who love them the most. not when i held my mother as she cried herself to sleep when my father didn't home home and she knew he was in another woman's bed. not when my uncle ran his fingers down another woman's body as my aunt slept in the room next door. so please, please, please do not ask me to trust you as you lay in another woman's arms.
The weeds inside me were actually flowers.
There are flowers growing inside of me.
For the longest time, I was sure that every thing growing inside of me had died from the darkness that has taken over me.
I found myself trying to slice open a crack of light and watering the dying flowers inside me with spilled blood and ink.
But now I know. There are flowers growing inside of me.