كانت مأساتي مع حبك غير المكتمل انني اشعر بذروة السعادة خلال لقائك وبذروة الذل بعد ذلك
My tragedy with you incomplete love
Was that I felt most happy seeing you
And most humiliated after it
- Ghada al-Samman
Not today Justin

roma★
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i don't do bad sauce passes

titsay
taylor price

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trying on a metaphor

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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Misplaced Lens Cap

blake kathryn
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

⁂

#extradirty
wallacepolsom
Xuebing Du
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

pixel skylines
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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@thisbeautifulwound
كانت مأساتي مع حبك غير المكتمل انني اشعر بذروة السعادة خلال لقائك وبذروة الذل بعد ذلك
My tragedy with you incomplete love
Was that I felt most happy seeing you
And most humiliated after it
- Ghada al-Samman
my fingers tremble with surprising violence as i reflect upon how you left me. words will only amplify an injury too deep for poetry.
Noor Shirazie, Into the Wildfire: Mourning Departures (via noorshirazie)
the heart knows not of duty. its only responsibility is to adore without limits or boundaries.
Noor Shirazie (via noorshirazie)
“You are no longer part of my heart
but at night
you become the sorrow that flows into my eyes.”
“Press my breasts, Part the veil of mystery, A flower blooms there, Crimson and fragrant.”
— Yosano Akiko (1878–1942), translated from the Japanese by Kenneth Rexroth
I’ve been disappearing,
Bit by bit
Piece by piece
One loved one at a time
One heartbreak at a time
One lie at a time
I’ve been disappearing,
One song at a time
One lover at a time
one breath at a time
And I’ve been disappearing, shrinking, fading, losing
and finally becoming.
Did we bid our goodbyes or did the sun just fall out of the sky?
@ayeshasyedaa (via ayeshasyedaa)
When you finally tell her about me,
Tell her about all the glances stolen midway
All the words we never said
All the times we never met
All the love we never had
And all the times we didn’t leave
Tell her about my laugh and all the love I couldn’t give you
About all the love you kept giving
Tell her how I always thought your smile could bring world peace
If she thinks so too, she isn’t the one
Tell her how my hands could never find their way to you
Tell her how I pray she has the world map for a heart and light where all my dark places were
Tell her how my love notes sounded like worn down apologies
If she says sorry more than I love you, she isn’t the one
Tell her about all my favourite songs and my love for dead things
Tell her how I did love you
Tell her how it could never be enough
Tell her how love could not save me
And when you finally tell her about me,
Tell her I’ll always pray for love to save the both of you.
-@ayeshasyedaa
What am I, if not my tragedy?.
-@ayeshasyedaa
“Making love with a woman and sleeping with a woman are two separate passions, not merely different but opposite. Love does not make itself felt in the desire for copulation (a desire that extends to an infinite number of women) but in the desire for shared sleep (a desire limited to one woman).”
— Milan Kundera, from “The Book of Laughter and Forgetting”
Place it between your teeth and or at the back of your throat where every other secret rots. Place it in the hollow of your cheek, or dont. Someday, when the rains forget my skin or your sun, my voice. Let my name escape your mouth, over and over again. Say it loudly and carelessly. Say it with hope, for that is what im made of. Say it with life, for that is what it means. Say it with love, for it shall never be yours.
-@ayeshasyedaa
A woman’s first blood doesn’t come from between her legs but from biting her tongue.
Meggie Royer (via eenymimi)
This isn’t about your usual witches. These are the women you couldn’t burn or drown. You’ll see us behind the trees in your backyard at night, drinking wine in your kitchens, reading in your beds. We will toil and trouble. But we don’t possess cats or foxes or young girls. We possess your hearts and your minds. We will avenge our ancestors, don’t worry. We’ve had centuries to perfect our craft.
Meggie Royer, Potions for Witches the Boys Couldn’t Burn (via humanprada)
The difference between almost and lost is just two extra letters. The difference between sadness and joy is so many letters that the entire alphabet forgets its purpose.
Blueprints for Tattoos That Make the Owner Weep by Meggie Royer From The No You Never Listened To
( @writingsforwinter )
In bed two weeks before everything ended, you murmured “I’m sorry” into my spine so you could apologize for the way your absence would eventually cripple me.
(via zonneklaar)
And that’s the problem when something inside you dies. You know exactly where it once lived, but you have to accept it will never breathe again.
— Mobeen Hakeem