tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11376855936935528522024-02-21T21:08:44.819+03:00The Labyrinth(s)Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-21428051066629438372019-05-03T14:48:00.000+03:002019-05-03T14:48:15.624+03:00inconsistency <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
the longing is intense , an unwelcome stranger, the thirst in an intense sweat, it fills my mouth when I look at him, it consumes me and consumes me. <br />
I lie on bed with it on hot afternoons, it is the sweat on my skin, it is my lover in an empty room, the memory of his scent on the night I set everything I knew on fire.<br />
<br />
I know the longing intimately, like a lover whose eyelids I kissed until I thought it wouldn't hurt him when I left, the longing is an old friend I sit with on evenings with coffee cooling in my hands, losing moments with myself to an easy daydream, a practiced routine of reminiscing, his name like the full moon on a summer night. <br />
<br />
What do you do with a love like this that leaves you wanting and wanting and wanting and wanting.<br />
Some days I think this quiet patience will outlive me and others I am teaching myself to swim in an ocean of waiting and wanting. I feel like I could wait for him for years like a starving infant and still be content with my emptiness when he doesn't ever return.<br />
I wait, wilted rose of a woman, dry earth cracking beneath my feet, his name in my mouth like a prayer for rain.<br />
<br />
I want time to stop when he's with me, each moment to stretch out in an endless infinity, held tenderly in my palms like an heirloom my mother taught me how to lose. I want to remember so much but I fear it will hurt too much when the time comes for me to want to forget , take too much undoing of my own skin. <br />
<br />
How do you rewrite the past. If I shed all my skin will it still remember how your touch felt when it grows back. How do I teach it to forget?<br />
<br />
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Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-4215595853170644792017-08-01T14:52:00.001+03:002017-12-07T06:07:30.880+03:00the longing for an end is never poetic or romanticised, just final.<p dir="ltr">I'm sitting on an empty beach feeding my drained soul more agony <br>
Your hand reaches out, old friend<br>
but it never reaches out for me.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I have traveled light years<br>
praying I'd find you alive at the finish line<br>
that the demons hadn't gotten to you before me<br>
You empty me like upturned vases cracked blue wearing the bruises time inflicted like a legacy.<br>
Pain is their only memory. <br>
You are only regret . and filled with my empty my longing my desperate hands shaking when they search for you and close around nothing, shaking in the flicker of the dim light of your late texts , shaking  in the dark trying to find the light and afraid of it so very afraid.<br>
You burn me like a supernova , you are at your brightest and I am set on fire.<br>
I've discovered you're a deadly disease there's no cure for.<br>
There's no healing after you.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I'm sitting on a damp beach my body wracked with feeling. I've had enough of being alive , being this aware , being this aware of being this empty. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I'm sitting on a damp beach when I get up and I don't know if you reach for me because I've already turned away , I don't hear if you call because the waves are deafening here, I wait for the nothing to claim me before I drown myself. </p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-86829889987724946182017-08-01T14:42:00.001+03:002017-12-07T06:08:13.582+03:00"See? He tastes like you , only sweeter-"<p dir="ltr">"<i>You've awoken all my demons</i>"</p>
<p dir="ltr">Mad woman<br>
She doesn't know how to love<br>
Soft or womanly <br>
Mad woman<br>
Her love isn't water lilies, it's acid rain  <br>
Her love is a hideous monster clawing at your throat <br>
Her love is an open festering wound daring you to look away</p>
<p dir="ltr">mad woman,  her love is four letter cuss words hissed between tears</p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>"All the men have eaten me alive, darling</i>"<br>
All the men will stand at her altar<br>
and are ready to offer anyone's blood but theirs' <br>
as a sacrifice </p>
<p dir="ltr">Poor child, they say once her father tied her to a railway track at the fore front of an oncoming train<br>
and she still misinterprets it for endearment<br>
though that particular brand of love got lost in translation </p>
<p dir="ltr">She puts the mouth of a gun to her temple and begs you for forgiveness with her fingers on the trigger<br>
Her name is your kryptonite,  <br>
you can't say no to her</p>
<p dir="ltr">Mad woman, her lover is instability <br>
Mad woman,  they call her <i>fucking crazy bitch </i>, <br>
ask her what your love means to her and<br>
she'll kiss you when your mouth is filled with poison,<br>
she'll slice open her veins in a bathtub and make you drink her blood to make you understand <br>
the darkness<br>
in her and how it <br>
makes<br>
love<br>
to her everyday .</p>
<p dir="ltr">Mad woman, her love is a hurricane that worships destruction <br>
She will tear you apart like apart a natural disaster and insist it is infatuation<br>
Mad woman , she is a battleground <br>
And her battles are spilling over into your comfort zone</p>
<p dir="ltr">Mad woman , all her longings are a garden carefully tended to <br>
Give her too much honey and all the roses wilt<br>
Too much love is an overdose that is always fatal, have you never understood ?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Mad woman, they say when the madness came for her , <br>
she invited him in for coffee, <br>
and then she slept with him.<br>
Maybe she thought it was better than being alone.<br></p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-38970938338901665832017-07-02T13:05:00.001+03:002017-07-02T13:05:41.999+03:00<p dir="ltr">I am a continent <br>
full of faultlines,<br>
my mother<br>
was my first earthquake</p>
<p dir="ltr">In a midsummer afternoon of August,<br>
my lust for forbidden seed ripens, <br>
the juiciest fruit on the tree.<br>
I am a country full of longing.<br>
Filled with refugees that yearn for what they fled from.<br>
my unreciprocated passion is a river full of poison <br>
It flows, <br>
and the entire field is embittered.</p>
<p dir="ltr">In the winter of my adolescence <br>
his unrequited love<br>
is whipping the ocean into a frenzy<br>
the ocean soaks my shores <br>
with the stories of his wanting.<br>
When I do not relent, <br>
the crux of his passion builds<br>
into unforgiving tornado <br>
that returns <br>
with a vengeance,<br>
and pulverises the border wall-<br>
he<br>
ruins<br>
everything <br>
in me, <br>
and has the <br>
audacity<br>
to call it<br>
love.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I am a country that has only known war.<br>
Everyone I've ever touched is collateral damage.</p>
<p dir="ltr">All the women in me are tectonic plates<br>
Shifting restlessness around <br>
We have never tasted tranquil <br>
Or held it in our palms</p>
<p dir="ltr">There is in me the orphan island child who has only tasted separation<br>
She spends all her time calculating the distance to home<br>
Even though home is a battlefield <br>
And it's a battle she's never won. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Then there's the juvenile woman of alluvial earth<br>
craving the richness of the curves of the river<br>
The only country she knows<br>
Is wet with longing </p>
<p dir="ltr">The volcanic goddess, spewing lava <br>
Volatile and violent in her all consuming passion<br>
She hasn't learnt yet to love with patience<br>
To make loss her lover <br>
Loss is the only lover that will never leave </p>
<p dir="ltr">The self sufficient plateau of maturity<br>
The only woman in me who understands why love cannot be impatient.</p>
<p dir="ltr">We're all catching up to each other. </p>
<p dir="ltr">There is vulnerability sown into the land, fear implanted wherever the wind blows, chaos taking birth everywhere. <br>
We take hold of each other.<br>
From the ruins , we rebuild our abandoned home <br>
mountains from earthquakes and lakes from sorrow. </p>
<p dir="ltr">We are our own saviors.</p>
<p dir="ltr">- from the soil.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-86321402178663518252017-06-22T14:31:00.001+03:002017-06-25T09:39:51.167+03:00every divine decree <p dir="ltr">We buried Maryam a month ago.<br>
She was three.<br>
Her father had to pull her dead body away from her mother.<br>
(She wouldn't let go).</p>
<p dir="ltr">Yesterday I saw a child ( nearly Maryam's age) in the souk. <br>
She'd put her bottle down her shirt.<br>
it was so adorable. It suffocated me.<br>
I was almost openly weeping in the market. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Does her mother ever leave the house? Does her mother hurt at every child that has been allowed to live?<br>
Does she wake up in the night because she dreamt her child called out to her? </p>
<p dir="ltr">55,000 children have been killed in Syria.<br>
55,000 sets of parents who wake up in the night thinking their child called out to them. <br>
55,000 sets of families who've buried someone who should've outlived them.<br>
55,000 mothers who'd already dreamt of careers and graduation presents and wedding bells for their children before bullets and inhumanity wiped it off the slate.</p>
<p dir="ltr">2154 Palestinian children have been murdered since September 29,2000.<br>
2154.</p>
<p dir="ltr">2154.</p>
<p dir="ltr">2154.</p>
<p dir="ltr">2154.</p>
<p dir="ltr">In my dreams all the children are crawling out of Maryam's grave and trying to strangle me. </p>
<p dir="ltr">In my dreams, the only thing I can smell is blood.</p>
<p dir="ltr">In my dreams, the all the children I couldn't save are soaked in their blood, and their blood rains all around me and eventually drowns me.</p>
<p dir="ltr">When I awaken, the rulers of the land are squabbling,<br>
oh, the rulers of the land are quarrelling<br>
oh, the rulers of the land starving their neighbours in the holy month,<br>
oh, the rulers are playing chess in a burning house <br>
and arguing over who cheated<br>
while the flames devour them all.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-68910618260419853962017-05-28T07:44:00.001+03:002017-12-07T06:08:38.794+03:00You never know what is going on in anyone's life except yours.<p dir="ltr">Sometimes life is the gentle exhale at the end of the day, and it slips past you , one quiet day at a time.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Then one day you're walking on the highway of your existence, and life is the truck that slams into you. And nothing could've ever prepared you for the moment it splits your ribcage in half.</p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>"Do you feel like everything we do is an attempt to dull the sharp reality of death and how it's going to take us all?"</i></p>
<p dir="ltr">Other days life is that over enthusiastic middle aged host at the party that you don't want to be at, serving you extra helpings of emptiness even when your plate is already full.</p>
<p dir="ltr">And you know you will be doubled over retching the emptiness up later at night, and that it will cloud your very being, slip underneath every shield into the edges of your consciousness, show up in your dreams, bleed into your frame and stick to everything you touch , defiling it with the overpowering stench of the open grave in you.</p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Death makes everything else so profoundly insignificant</i>.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Your pain is a disease that nobody can ever comprehend or cure, and life is another name we give to the affliction of existence that opportunists will call a gift, but realists know is a curse.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Sometimes they say life is a learning curve. </p>
<p dir="ltr">And I've learnt that your pain belongs to you alone. And it never leaves. Your pain is the phantom limb nobody else can see and only you can feel. People can try to love you. People can hold you up when you are a continent of darkness. But nobody can ever take away the ocean that surrounds you and threatens to devour you. </p>
<p dir="ltr">They can barely swim to begin with.</p>
<p dir="ltr">This is my pain. <br>
And this is me, living through it. <br>
I wish you luck with yours. </p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-82403103815105544652017-04-14T21:23:00.001+03:002017-04-18T08:38:09.344+03:00deja vu<p dir="ltr">We struck matches and lit fires in each others bellies and mistook it for love,<br>
not knowing it was eating us alive, consuming us,<br>
forgetting that fire needs fuel and oxygen. And it took both from us and then we fell apart like used matchsticks </p>
<p dir="ltr">The last time I wrote about you, I swore it would be the last time.</p>
<p dir="ltr">six years down the road, a drug overdose and a wild night intoxicated with insomnia has you on my mind and how I can't unlove your poison out of me</p>
<p dir="ltr">I hear you're into marijuana now<br>
smoke filling your brains <br>
instead of a college education<br>
alcohol has tasted the blood in your veins <br>
The last time you called was never. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I heard your survive on a diet of cigarettes and apathy <br>
that you've  lost a lot of weight now though you<br>
haven't gained any self esteem<br>
And the men are still hopelessly in love with the illusion of you <br>
But you, you have fallen out of love with<br>
yourself </p>
<p dir="ltr">the last time I wrote about you, I thought  the inertia I've chained myself in would break <br>
The last time I wrote about you I thought I was writing you out of my life, <br>
I'm filling the void you left with God, <br>
I'm filling the void you left with unwatched seasons of TV shows, <br>
I'm filling the void you left with all the lives I haven't lived and all the places I've never been,<br>
I'm tasting honey when it reminds me of your hair before I remind myself to forget that the last time you called was a thousand days ago but I haven't forgotten the sound of your voice or wondered when you'd need me next , <br>
what unlikely crises I daydream may infiltrate your days enough to make me worthy of a text back,<br>
but I'm back to filling the void you left with other people whose names taste different in my  mouth but I'm teaching my tongue to curve around them and forget the familiarity of yours, <br>
the last time you called, I realised your memory is a curse on me I am trying to get the heavens to revoke,<br>
the last time you called I realised I cannot fill the void you left with other people and places because when I'm awake I've mastered the art of forgetting your face but it digs its way out of the grave in my heart when I'm asleep and sneaks into my dreams,<br>
I wake up and the only word in my mouth is your name.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-2751125740178221502017-04-03T06:43:00.001+03:002017-06-22T14:26:59.553+03:00the hole in the ozone layer is male privelege<p dir="ltr">The sky is submitting itself <br>
to the darknes<br>
the resistance of the earth <br>
melting away<br>
Her breasts are swollen<br>
with unspoken agony  <br>
His mouth drags across hers<br>
Filling her with the <br>
emptiness of unbridled passion <br>
bite marks <br>
Littered across her body like dead flowers in a forgotten graveyard <br>
An unbroken promise spread over the canvas of her stomach<br>
His lonely is spilling<br>
Out of his mouth<br>
Into hers<br>
Limbs sprawled against the grass<br>
The night is wild and the darkness is crawling into her<br>
Spreading her thighs Iike an unbroken promise<br>
ripping her apart as easily as her first<br>
His lust is spilling over <br>
Corroding the air <br>
His insanity entering her<br>
One breathless stroke at a time <br>
the easy sliding of the sharpest knife<br>
in and out<br>
anything<br>
but<br>
gentle.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-50982252070754841772017-04-03T06:40:00.001+03:002017-04-04T17:59:00.949+03:00What does unrequited love feel like? It's like drowning , but you never die."<p dir="ltr"><br>
One<br>
Your lungs <br>
Are filled <br>
With expectations <br>
Loud enough <br>
for your mouth to taste<br>
They are not bitter (yet)<br>
The water is calm <br>
Azure<br>
You think this will <br>
never<br>
change<br>
You will learn<br>
Not to feel this dangerously safe</p>
<p dir="ltr">Two.<br>
Your mouth is choking<br>
On disappointment <br>
Brackish green<br>
Salt and sweat <br>
You're learning to let go <br>
In violent spasms <br>
Nothing graceful <br>
Your windpipe is clenched <br>
Around your broken heart<br>
Stale lies tearing out of your stomach <br>
Here is the stench of the curses you have eaten<br>
the water is wild <br>
It rips away the last<br>
Of your sanity </p>
<p dir="ltr">Three.<br>
You'd think <br>
After all this time <br>
You'd have remembered <br>
that you could not swim</p>
<p dir="ltr">The irony is that <br>
You've never felt<br>
more alive </p>
<p dir="ltr">The water is calm again<br>
Your limbs have stopped<br>
Holding on to the world </p>
<p dir="ltr">You are caught in between <br>
Your madness and your misery<br>
Seven thousand meters deep<br>
You're still asking,<br>
Do you understand ?<br>
Do you understand?<br>
Does anyone ?</p>
<p dir="ltr">- the stages of drowning </p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-57371306562868915902017-02-16T18:33:00.001+03:002017-02-19T06:34:24.317+03:00Half woman<p dir="ltr">Half woman <br>
Here you are <br>
Kneeling at the altar <br>
Of commercially glorified romance <br>
praying for "the one"<br>
Convinced your womanhood is incomplete without a man <br>
Here you are spitting out the blood he made you taste <br>
swallowing rejection like barbiturates </p>
<p dir="ltr">There must be something wrong with you mustn't it ,<br>
Why else wouldn't the men bend their knees,<br>
treat you like a goddess whose beauty they'd finally learnt to worship </p>
<p dir="ltr">There must be something wrong with you <br>
Because the men , they come ,<br>
they eat out your heart ,<br>
they drink out of your mouth, <br>
they leave marks on your thighs, <br>
they leave you with the bitter aftertaste of forbidden flavour in your mouth, <br>
and yet they're never full, <br>
but you're always empty. </p>
<p dir="ltr">the first time you kissed someone your stomach flipped and you couldn't recognise your self because you refused to look at what you'd become </p>
<p dir="ltr">And five years later you're still choking on your sins ,<br>
searching for your sanity and acceptance in the eyes of strangers and men <br>
who only look at you with eyes carved out of lust and hearts blackened<br>
with their insatiable hungering. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Here you are<br>
Kneeling at the altar<br>
Of rebirth .<br>
Finally learning to worship your body<br>
Reveling in the glory of your womanhood,<br>
in all its shapes and forms <br>
Here is where you will teach the men and lead them in prayer <br>
Your body is a goddamn temple<br>
Tell the men to enter<br>
With humility <br>
And to sacrifice themselves  for you <br>
The next time <br>
He says you're not woman enough <br>
Tell him <br>
It's because <br>
You're half lioness.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-50670159430171635002017-01-21T20:00:00.000+03:002017-06-15T20:25:45.138+03:00every shade of blue.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Outside the living room, down the street , across the world , there are enough people but not enough saviors,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">not enough for you.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The bathroom sink is flooded with your guilt , </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the glass shards of his anger littering the floor, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">still stinging, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">still merciless. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The dishes aren't wiped clean of yesterday's regrets ,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the penance you are paying like rent to live in this chaos</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and trying to believe you can save this marriage.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The first time you met him , </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">he'd already decided you were the one , </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">you tested those waters with both feet at once, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and you are still paying the price. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">You honeymooned in Italy and said your vows in Venice</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and when you looked at this man then</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> you swore he was the only way out of the darkness.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When the baby was born you decided to paint the walls yellow</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">because you reasoned, yellow was a happy colour, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">but it was because you could already feel the blackness</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">growing in the heart of the man sharing your bed, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the black that spilled over into the carpet </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and discoloured everything .</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When he leaves in the morning you stir circles in your coffee</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> and try not to think of your first date together. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When the toddler wakes up, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">you teach her the letters, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the colours of the rainbow </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and worry about what she remembers from last night .</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><b>Red</b></i>, you're saying ,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">holding up a crayon, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">red is the colour of his rage </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">when he returns home </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and it fills the room like the smell of potpourri , </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">red;</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the blood that runs between your teeth </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">when his fist slams into your jaw.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><i>Orange</i>,</b> the colour of the lights swimming behind your eyes </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">when you fall to the ground </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and your head begins to spin.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><b>Yellow</b></i>, you could paint every day of the calendar </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">that goddamn colour</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and it wouldn't take away any of this pain.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><i>Green</i>,</b> every woman you see,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">everywhere, across the streets, down the lane, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">incites this corrosive envy in you</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">because they can still leave the house</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">without being asked about their bruises.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b><i>Blue</i>,</b> the colour of your skin</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">the first day he sheds his mask.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><b>Violet</b></i>, that was the colour of your dress on the first date</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and god,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">how you regret this insanity, </span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">how you regret Italy,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and the first coffee,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and ripping your hair out at three am ,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and still deciding to stick around with this man ,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and trying to save this house from your madness,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and yourself from his rage,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">and trying to save your child from remembering anything,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">except the damn colours , and the numbers you sing to her.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br></span></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br></div>
<div dir="ltr">
<br></div>
</div>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-42791912928248067612016-12-28T19:27:00.001+03:002016-12-31T12:35:20.230+03:00Life in all its inadequacies <p dir="ltr">Tonight there's the quiet , the woman in the temples have stopped weeping and the sky is submitting itself to the dawn with resignation underneath it's breath and my head is finally clear enough to think of you in all its clarity. The air is alive and my lungs are filled with all the words I did not say.</p>
<p dir="ltr"><b>Things I have learnt this year:</b><br>
no human is one hundred percent good or one hundred percent bad</p>
<p dir="ltr">ironically ,emptiness can fill you up </p>
<p dir="ltr"><b>Things I worry about :</b> <br>
I do not trust men enough to live happily in a  heterosexual marriage<br>
I don't trust God like I used to<br>
I don't pray like I used to<br>
When I shut my eyes it takes a lot of self control to want to wake up <br>
I'm not ready for death either<br>
The person I am in love with is an illusion<br>
My childhood has scarred me permanently </p>
<p dir="ltr"><b>Things I understand now :</b></p>
<p dir="ltr">I will probably never not love you<br>
It's probably never over in my head</p>
<p dir="ltr">Some things just aren't meant to be<br>
And you were never meant to be mine.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-2824060179974949522016-10-28T16:52:00.001+03:002016-10-30T15:31:50.408+03:00Resurrection<p dir="ltr">Her name speaks of revolution.<br>
Underneath her bones is an abandoned city.<br>
Waking up to injustice </p>
<p dir="ltr">The first time you kiss her like an apology  she tastes like forgiveness<br>
The second time she tastes like blood. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Her name is an anthem in your head<br>
of a country that refused you refuge </p>
<p dir="ltr">Her name sounds like love to you </p>
<p dir="ltr">Your name sounds like revenge, <br>
like gunshots, <br>
Fire<br>
Rage in her mouth , a trigger shaped like a swear word<br>
and a barrel full of broken promises <br>
the bullet shells clinking to the ground<br>
Echoing anything but forgiveness</p>
<p dir="ltr">In the war inside your head <br>
You realise your punishment <br>
Is living with yourself.</p>
<p dir="ltr">In the war inside your heart<br>
There is no victor <br>
Your body is an abandoned graveyard<br>
of all the dreams that died in you <br>
marching like soldiers to their death <br>
Your mind refuses to grant you refuge</p>
<p dir="ltr">In the war inside your bones<br>
Your demons are waiting<i> to swallow you whole</i><br>
To shred up your soul</p>
<p dir="ltr">Your reckoning has come, he wears black , <br>
he calls himself judgment day <br>
Spitting <u>stones</u> and shooting missiles your way<br>
You're on your knees praying for an escape, paying for it with regret<br>
But you're confusing escape with death.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-77670377346635004422016-10-17T21:02:00.001+03:002017-02-16T18:30:34.752+03:00How many miles have you walked for men that never held your feet in their lap? - Warsan Shire <p dir="ltr">Men.<br>
Snakes.<br>
Sexual predators.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Vice in their eyes , lies tainted with cigarette smoke in their mouth , the world lying flat in the palm of their hands, their eyes on your chest, the curve of your hips, watching you out of the corner of their eyes , their tongues curving around the word <i>baby</i>, their lips pretending they're sealed, though they'll splinter your reputation in a second,  their hands <i>everywhere</i> they shouldn't be.</p>
<p dir="ltr">You sit with these boys in class,you take the bus home with these men , you go to work clocking in hours with them ,</p>
<p dir="ltr">but  god forbid they see you as anything but a conquest,  <br>
a mission,<br>
an escapade<br>
a foreign flavour they crave, </p>
<p dir="ltr">they try to get you to <i>fall in love,</i><br>
Smiling when you fall and break your face against the cold stone pavement of reality <br>
telling you falling in love hurts while they<br>
lick the blood off  your face<br>
But honey, love doesn't taste like stones in your mouth and humiliation </p>
<p dir="ltr">they want the landscape in the background of their homecoming story to be the wind in your hair ,<br>
they want your name on a list of 'achievements' next to your underwear,  </p>
<p dir="ltr">they see you , and god forbid they think of anything apart from your breasts, <br>
god forbid they think of anything resembling consent,</p>
<p dir="ltr">honey, what a shame you weren't born with independence between your legs like them, <br>
what a shame you're soft down there like a pillow to soak in their unwanted advances , <br>
their <i>sugar</i>, their <i>baby</i> , </p>
<p dir="ltr">their smiles like poison dragged across your mouth ,<br>
their appetite for the syrup in your tongue unquenchable, you gasp ,<br>
you turn away. But you.</p>
<p dir="ltr">you shock them.</p>
<p dir="ltr">A girl with a mouth full of words like razor sharp blades,<br>
ripping through their veins,<br>
breathing living speaking <i>rejection</i>,<br>
the <i>audacity</i> your speech bleeds, <br>
the <i>shock</i> that you claim your body your own by covering it completely,  <br>
declaring it <b><i>not theirs</i></b> to look at<br>
to touch<br>
to speak about<br>
to think about </p>
<p dir="ltr">and now the vile monsters are clawing to get at you , to touch, to get a taste, they fetishise your fucking toes, your feet,  they imagine worse, they jack off to the way you walk , they open their mouth to swallow you whole ,and these primal beasts cannot process your brain , your thinking , your natural innate urge to say <i>no, no</i> , your inborn instinct to kick them in the crotch and set their lungs ablaze with dismissal , and risk waking the sleeping dragon, you take the risk every single time, even though it could take your life.</p>
<p dir="ltr">They still couldn't spell consent after you were done with them. </p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-12349940549322439172016-10-09T08:10:00.001+03:002016-10-20T04:03:20.952+03:00Slander<p dir="ltr"><br>
You reach the basement. The wall is painted a nauseating bright yellow. You've heard yellow is supposed to be cheerful, you stare at it trying to soak the happy in.<br>
The sun is blinding , the coffee is bitter , breakfast means entering the mess where strangers look at you, prejudice colouring the corners of their eyes , rumours blurring their vision of you.<br>
You look away. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Across the road , next door, everywhere are people who are free of guilt, poison soaked tongues spinning their lies into the grapevine, vilified sentiments taking up all the space in their throats, using slander as arrow poison. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Why do you keep running , he still asks ;<i> it's because it's  </i><i>harder</i><i> to </i><i>hit</i><i> a moving target</i>.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Constantly looking over your shoulder , sleeping uneasy as as a hundred tongues wag to the tune of a thousand lies , lies that crawl their way up your back when you lie down,  sneak into your mind when you're unguarded, you wake up to find your posture so defensive , fingers scrunched in a fist,  ready to lash  out.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Lies that haunt you in the eyes of strangers , your mouth is halfway in a smile when you meet them before you slice your lips against  them, your smile wiped off your face with blood. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Lies building up a reputation when you're assisting the boy next door who lost his friend to suicide, rumours about your best friend in spending the night with an unmarried man, she starts, she's hurt, your curl yourself around her the next time she sleeps, like you could protect her when you were eaten up by the million mouths yourself .</p>
<p dir="ltr">Sneaking in through the slit under your door , playing with the strands of your hair , finally reaching the tympanic membrane , red fills your vision, you've burst finally , carrying  your mouth , your guilt free heart, your tired ears, you take them home,  you collapse .</p>
<p dir="ltr">You empty your best friend's room of sharp objects before you leave .</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-88366366665940366472016-07-30T12:32:00.001+03:002016-10-09T08:12:49.091+03:00lost cause <p dir="ltr">Hello there, old friend, I've been flinging my heart at the mouths of strangers who couldn't swallow brokenness, I've been falling in love with the lonely highway, counting the kilometres that will take me home, shutting the prayers in my chest asking for one.way.ticket.please. </p>
<p dir="ltr">tuck away these dreams spun of starlight under your eyelids , dawn isn't calling you, not today. </p>
<p dir="ltr">You<br>
You who <br>
Who thinks too much <br>
Who cares too much<br>
Who loves too much too relentlessly<br>
Who cries too much</p>
<p dir="ltr">You who have buried darkness in your heart over and over but its ghost never fails to haunt you <br>
You giving birth to the idea of giving up, </p>
<p dir="ltr">hold <br>
on<br>
one<br>
breath<br>
longer <br>
You ,still giving your heart to the edge of the sky and praying it won't be flung into oblivion ,<br>
You ,still making love to yesterday's mistakes, still afraid to let.go. , afraid to cause pain so much that your skin is broken,reworn inside out and you're still stringing yourself up by morning  trying to <i>be </i><i>there</i> for people who don't know what <i>being there</i> is like <br>
You , so dependable<br>
Rapidly becoming so expendable.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I swallow the words like broken glass and walk away ; remember when you were raw with me and we had the ocean at our feet and a roof, a heart , a town , a person to call home ? <br>
Have you stopped waiting for them who can't wait to leave you behind,<br>
Have you stopped mistaking pain for poetry and this madness for love?<br>
Has the instinct of self preservation saved you from the cruelty of unrequited affection , not yet , no.<br>
Your heart is too big for the world to hold , <br>
and all the people couldn't fill you so you filled it with stones , <br>
and find the courage to step into the ocean and finally<br>
Let <br>
Go<br><br></p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-57146148248416176252016-07-06T04:26:00.001+03:002017-01-12T18:35:43.671+03:00Razor blade mouth <p dir="ltr">She was four feet , a vision in pink , eight years old , her birthday was three days ago , her father used to tell her <i>she could be anything she wanted to be</i>.</p>
<p dir="ltr">They had a quaint garden in the heart of city , the first act of rebellion Baba taught her. Her teacher, Mrs Azmi said that she was too loud for a little girl , her tongue was far too sharp , her words too many but  Baba laughed it away, as always. </p>
<p dir="ltr">She was ten when the city splintered its spine on the bloodthirsty breath of a tyrant and the collateral damage of politics , her house quivered,her miniature garden collapsed, her father was buried under the rubble of time and blood . Her legs were torn from her body , her father ripped from her soul.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Eternities later , her name is called , her physical form is taken to a makeshift refuge,  a white man with stony eyes glances at her , unfamiliar , foreign, he asks her questions she cannot understand, she stares at him. PTSD,  he mouths to the nurse.<br>
"The scarf," a lady says, " you can take it off now."</p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>A reign of oppression has ended</i>, is what they say of the city in smoke in the papers the next day . <i>The bombs liberated you. </i>Liberated you from the oppression of your religion, the oppression of your male family members, the cloth you were forced to wear around your head , <i>we saved </i><i>you</i>. <br>
What ?<br>
Rage wells in her tongue , razor blade mouth they used to call her, Mrs Azmi and the kids at school , baba as he ruffled her hair but her mouth is shut forever, Mrs Azmi is probably dead, baba is locked in the afterlife , his body too torn up to recognise. </p>
<p dir="ltr">If she could speak she'd say <i>Baba told me </i><i>I</i><i> could be </i><i>anything</i><i> </i><i>I</i><i> ever wanted</i>. Baba saved me from everything , everything except the explosion that tore him to shreds. If baba were he'd say , <i>stand up for </i><i>yourself</i><i> , binti. </i><br>
But I lost my legs to the bomb. <br>
<i>Speak </i><i>up</i><i> for </i><i>yourself</i>.<br>
But post traumatic stress disorder skinned the words from the roof of her mouth, churned them into gasps that dissolved at the base of her throat.  </p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>We've saved you </i>the horrible woman insists,  <i>this is what you really wanted.</i> An escape from your father and the system trying to strangle your voice with the <i>hijab</i> around your neck and your head, your head that is too brainwashed and still believes religion and god will save your broken  heart even though it didn't save your dad.</p>
<p dir="ltr">No, she tries to say , baba never shushed me , the scarf around my neck didn't rip my femur bones  in half and nearly kill me , you did that ,this war against my people <u>did</u> that, this war took my tongue and my will to live and baba told me I could be anything but I can't be anything because I can't walk and I can't be anything because I can't speak, <i>god gave me everything in the world but you took that away from me </i>,  all she wanted was to shut her eyes and dream the white woman away , all she wanted was an escape, a bullet to the brain , like a ticket to the grave , the white woman wouldn't go away ,she wouldn't understand her scarf wasn't oppressing her as much the stench of blood on the white woman's hands, as much as the shrapnel pooled at her feet, the hole where her home and heart used to be. </p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-83452810758493155712016-06-17T18:50:00.001+03:002016-06-17T21:48:56.963+03:001, 2 inhale .<p dir="ltr">Time is burying disappointment in my veins like the bitter bloodred of betrayal , did you know the oxygen you needed to live can leak into your arteries , block them and cause a part of you to die ? </p>
<p dir="ltr">It's called an embolism.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I think about the hundreds of text messages flying through the airwaves, racing through space and time to reach friends and fathers and lovers, messages that didn't reach in time , messages that were read after the senders were shot dead , last words entombed in fragility, messages that were <i>still</i><i> never replied to.</i></p>
<p dir="ltr">" I'll call you," she swears and I try to not think about all the birthdays she's never called me, all the times I've meant nothing, waiting for the phone to ring like a sickness to end.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Take me to the city of dust and bones , a childhood spent in heaven. The flight is achingly familiar , remember when they gave Patchi on national day ? <br>
Remember how you said you'd always be there ? <br>
Remember when our words slipped between borders and countries , time and land separating us like never before, and you said you couldn't do it and you were sorry .</p>
<p dir="ltr">In forensic science we learn about how most murders are lust murders and how close rapists are to their victims , how the  food that sustains you can lodge in your larynx till it suffocates you to death.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I can't recall the last time you texted I love you too back and I can't help but wonder if I was too drunk loving the poison of your memories to realise they were killing me , sucking the life out of me , the worst kind of betrayal .<br></p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-57113331379137733112016-05-04T02:36:00.001+03:002016-05-04T08:15:07.905+03:00Dementia <p dir="ltr">Reading countless posts which talk about how the generations most remarkable feature is that they've lost the willingness to live and aside from art and the culture of melancholy that enraptures  our vacuous minds,all I can think is ,<i> if death was a gift, what makes you think you deserve it ?</i> </p>
<p dir="ltr">Sick hearts chasing delusions , we're the twenty first century of a world meant for destruction at its own hands by people who forgot humanity before they learned how to crawl. </p>
<p dir="ltr">You've prayed so much to be free you can feel the tons of unanswered calls pressing up against your eyeballs like a weight the sides of your skull don't want to hold any longer and you're thinking of freeing yourself in the shower , freeing yourself as you walk home , you're thinking of the rope he wound around his neck and how his parents begged you not to do it to yours and you're wondering , <i>am </i><i>I</i><i> really </i><i>all</i><i> that different</i> ?<br>
You're wondering if his family can remember his face because you're beginning to forget your family's names and you've been so far so long , you're trying to convince yourself you wouldn't matter and they can forget. You've made homes of roads that moved on, <i>who is the weakest</i> ?</p>
<p dir="ltr">Anger is no longer distinctive , I can feel it every day,corrupting my senses , burning through my veins , reducing me to viciousness , stripped down to bare animalistic desires , <i>you think </i><i>you're</i><i> different but so does everybody else, but </i><i>you're</i><i> all </i><i>monsters</i><i> , </i><i>you've</i><i> all learnt to break hearts, </i><i>just</i><i> different kinds.</i></p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-27069988088598453322016-04-10T09:34:00.001+03:002016-04-21T11:43:05.921+03:00Strike two <p dir="ltr">She has eyes strikingly hazel and dusky skin that reminded him of sunsets and the flush of blood pulsing underneath her  neck, so very alive and warm. Some days it feels like the earth is swallowing her and even the ocean can't understand the emptiness in her, some days stone preaches to her heart about softness . </p>
<p dir="ltr">He imagines his mouth on her skin and she pictures freedom from him and his persuasive eyes . </p>
<p dir="ltr">She's  counted her blessings on the stars and the sky rent asunder to show her the stars weren't enough . </p>
<p dir="ltr">Except for him , the burning desire that pulsed through her arteries ,her heart skips a beat , lust calling her name and claiming her soul in a rush of impassioned mistakes.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Apologies couldn't keep anyone sane but she would find that the hard way. Suffering is a form of life she had never pictured until she had to live it. Patience bent into her bloodstream , the caverns of her veins echoing with decided resignation. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Only God loves you enough to forget the devil that walks around with your heart and name.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-28323251534608591772016-04-03T07:33:00.001+03:002016-04-03T07:33:39.689+03:00RIP to another soul lost to the obscurity of the afterlife<p dir="ltr">Death catches you unexpected , like a fog you walk in to to find yourself blinded and confused. <br>
I walk into the kind of silence only death can invoke, murmurs pressing up against each other , sighs escaping tired lips , everyone treading the dreaded path nobody chooses to walk on, prayers pulsing through veins that are now acutely aware of how very much alive they are.<br>
I woke up this morning to that fog. To be reminded of how grateful I should be for life and everything that is worth living for.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-81867783274233638072016-03-30T23:27:00.001+03:002016-05-07T11:11:00.405+03:00 you've only got yourself and your insanity <p dir="ltr">But you make it messy when it's going good. You make it all so messy and your face blurs every memory in me until I'm standing next to you and I used to mean something to you.<br>
What satisfaction do you get living your pathetic life glued to people in virtual worlds who don't give a damn ? What fun is it being a fan of a game, I never understood and what pleasure did you get in selling out and god you are so beautiful I wish you wouldn't. I wish you wouldn't sell out because you are worth so much more. I wish you wouldn't sell your soul to the devil and I wish your face wouldn't break my heart everytime I looked at it. You've insistently consumed me and I'm tired of your flames girl and I've been burnt so thoroughly that I'm all but a handful of ashes in your hands and can you please let go of me.<br>
You're a beautiful lie.<br>
It's a trap and everything you've been banking on is going to slip and give way beneath your feet and you'll fall and break like the delicate skin and bones you are but god you act so tough you've almost deluded yourself into believing the lies you project.<br>
You're worth more than this. <br>
You're worth more than this.<br>
You deserve more than this and I know you said sorry but my heart still breaks.<br>
Why did you change like the tides <br>
Why did I open the doors to damnation for you ?<br>
I still remember when you said the old you was dead. And she is. And it aches like this because I miss her everyday .<br>
You've no right to say you still care and wreck me like this.<br>
It's so difficult to take care of someone so fickle.<br>
It hurts to look at your face and I can't explain that and it hurts to think about you in ways I shouldn't and it hurts to have thought you changed only to realise that you became much worse.<br>
Vacuousness isn't appealing on you.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-69151263793653980492016-03-30T23:02:00.001+03:002016-04-03T07:35:25.310+03:00Fine lines <p dir="ltr">I can remember not knowing what a headache feels like , asking my friend once if the throbbing in my head was one , triumphant I'd finally gotten a headache and I could understand. </p>
<p dir="ltr">I could never understand your nuances , 3 fucking revolutions over and your name is the drug that keeps my brain wanting more at 1 30 am. I've forgotten how to unlove  you because I got so busy getting so good at it and now everything you do crushes me and i can't undo the damage I've self inflicted ,can you not be so inconsistent,  you're eating my heart raw and inside out , all I am is a memory, and I'm tired of being forgotten by you.</p>
<p dir="ltr"><i>Now you know how heartbreak </i><i>tastes</i><i> </i><i><u>in</u></i><i> your </i><i>mouth</i><i> , </i><i>you </i><i>breathe</i><i> in the acid of absentia , you might as </i><i>well</i><i> set fire to your lungs, you </i><i>wouldn't</i><i> know the difference honey, you </i><i>wouldn't</i><i> kno</i>w.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-42260286718392437012016-03-30T10:27:00.001+03:002016-03-30T23:32:41.943+03:00Why you should leave when they say "I'm busy "<p dir="ltr">You are constructed of your parents dreams and passion , an extraterrestrial intermingling of fate and coincidence , your existence is a gift to everyone's life you've touched and you aren't perfect or flawless.<br>
But you don't need to be. <br>
Walk away from people who dismiss your imperfections as flaws instead of acknowledging them as unique manifestations of an individual existence . </p>
<p dir="ltr">Walk away from people who make you feel like you're missing a limb or a spark or something that makes you interesting enough to hold their curiosity, you are not created as entertainment for the masses , your existence was never intended to please any mere earthling , you are an amalgamation of everything you believe in and everything that you do , you are too damn precious for someone to not be able to make time for you. <br>
Walk away from someone that isn't in awe of your absolute magic.<br>
Walk away from people who aren't committed to unconditional love.<br>
Walk away from people who are too "busy " to acknowledge the miracle that you are.</p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1137685593693552852.post-52649690700803006842016-03-29T18:55:00.001+03:002016-06-28T19:51:49.439+03:00Santa Monica<p dir="ltr">Find her in the wrecked ship she passes off for a heart , find her when she's sleeping alone in the house she cannot call a home , find her in alleys behind parked cars, in between the cigarettes you hate , find the dreams she drowned in the bottom of a jack Daniels on the way to yet another party full of faces  she doesn't recognise , men she doesn't know brushing up against her , their perfume too strong against her marijuana soaked memories of you , find her when she's sober, look her in the eyes and see if to still recognise the girl you called your friend. Find her behind eyeliner that is too harsh against the ebony of her skin , behind the walls she has built with broken bones , find her behind the facades she has constructed , find her on her way to drown her sins in the sea,take her home.  </p>
<p dir="ltr">Find her stumbling drunk , clutching the sink like a drowning man would reeds , holding her hand to her throat , puking put the poison last night chose to force feed her, find her when her demons are ripping her limbs apart , find her blades and protect her wrists from her fanatic attempts , save her from the chaos of her mind at 2 am when you're clinging to pills to escape the pain of seeing her shipwrecked lungs zoom in on you and call it home ,save her from the blind instincts to turn to people who would eat her raw and bleed her dry , save her from the burning in your heart when you look back and find she's found a safe <u>house</u> and it doesn't include you. </p>
Safiyyahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13302232179552733118noreply@blogger.com0