☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou
with no spaces in between, no room for any
exceptions.
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou
with no spaces in between, no room for any
exceptions.
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
Call me crazy. Call the universe cruel.
Call my mother on the phone, with
an apology she’ll never believe. Call
me soulmate, I never believed in them
anyway. Call to ask how I’m doing.
Call for all of your kitchen dances
and hazey car kisses back. Call
my name in your sleep, call it when
you unravel.
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
Call me crazy. Call the universe cruel.
Call my mother on the phone, with
an apology she’ll never believe. Call
me soulmate, I never believed in them
anyway. Call to ask how I’m doing.
Call for all of your kitchen dances
and hazey car kisses back. Call
my name in your sleep, call it when
you unravel.
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
You ask my why all of my writing sounds
sad, but you don't understand the way it
manifests. The way my words are strung
fairy lights, in an empty house at
midnight, trying to make all of the dark
edges beautiful again.
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
You ask my why all of my writing sounds
sad, but you don't understand the way it
manifests. The way my words are strung
fairy lights, in an empty house at
midnight, trying to make all of the dark
edges beautiful again.
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
We are soft, malleable things behind our
brittle masks. We dance to the music of
of our dying days, and the champagne tastes
a little bit like sadness, but maybe if we
drink enough of it we will drown. I'm sick
of wanting things I can't have. I'm sick
of feeling sick, with my life, with myself.
I'm sick of gritting my teeth for people
who would sooner punch through them.
I'm sick of smiling for a world that doesn't
want to look me in the eyes.
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
We are soft, malleable things behind our
brittle masks. We dance to the music of
of our dying days, and the champagne tastes
a little bit like sadness, but maybe if we
drink enough of it we will drown. I'm sick
of wanting things I can't have. I'm sick
of feeling sick, with my life, with myself.
I'm sick of gritting my teeth for people
who would sooner punch through them.
I'm sick of smiling for a world that doesn't
want to look me in the eyes.
☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾☽☾
“
I will be
anything. I will be anything if it means I get to be with you.
I will be the sun if it means you’ll love me. I will be
the sky if it means you’ll touch me. And you’ll be
the only one touching me. I will be orange when you wrap your
hands around my throat. Blue when you can’t sleep enough.
You are every color i will ever need. Put your hands on me and
i will tremble and i will tremble all the stars with me. The
entire sky will be burning with your name. Did i say it
already? Do i get to repeat? Please. Let me say it again. Here,
my hands, my shoulder. Would you like some coffee? I will be
the mug and the coffee in it. Did you know your sighs are every
prayer i ever needed? I like your knees. I like what your mouth
does to my name.
‘Inali, poetry and other lovely things’ | Nayha Y.
‘Inali, poetry and other lovely things’ | Nayha Y.
