rupi kaur

i don’t want to have you to fill the empty parts of me.
i want to be full on my own.
i want to be so complete i could light a whole city.
and then.

i want to have you.

cause the two of us combined could set it on fire.

rupi kaur

for women who are ‘difficult’ to love.

you are a horse running alone
and he tries to tame you
compares you to an impossible highway
to a burning house
says you are blinding him
that he could never leave you
forget you
want anything but you

you dizzy him, you are unbearable
every woman before or after you
is doused in your name
you fill his mouth
his teeth ache with memory of taste
his body just a long shadow seeking yours

but you are always too intense
frightening in the way you want him
unashamed and sacrificial
he tells you that no man can live up to the one who
lives in your head
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams

so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that

and if he wants to leave
then let him leave

you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love

– Warsan Shire

Forever

Eyes + Words

Written by Jacob Ibrag

‘Will we be forever?’ she asked

as the plane was boarding. He

stared into her eyes, the moment

frozen in time. It was as if he was

traveling to the future, it was as

if he already knew the conclusion.

She stood helplessly as he slowly

conjured a smile. He kissed her

earlobe and whispered, ‘we’ll be

ninety, sharing the sun on our

stoop. Our souls are married,

they were  the moment I

looked at you.”


Art by  agnes-cecile

View original post

sorrow song

for the eyes of the children,
the last to melt,
the last to vaporize,
for the lingering
eyes of the children, staring,
the eyes of the children of
buchenwald,
of vietnam and johannesburg,
for the eyes of the children
of nagasaki,
for the eyes of the children
of middle passage,
for cherokee eyes, ethiopian eyes,
russian eyes, american eyes,
for all that remains of the children,
their eyes,
staring at us,   amazed to see
the extraordinary evil in
ordinary men.
– lucille clifton

untitled

Tell me-
When did you first learn that love was the wind
That seasons and fashions and politics would change

And so would he

That you could only trust his arms for a moment
That kisses could melt away faster than carnival day cotton candy

Sister, tell me
Who taught you that love was water,
Always looking to spill out of your clasped hands
Or evaporte into thin air

Who told told you to distrust the sound of affection?
To believe that everyone leaves in the end?

Where does this memory lie?
Who fed it until it grew so ghoulish and real?

When will you let love in?

When will you start to see that his embrace is eternal?

When will you let his words rest in the small of your back
In the pit of your stomach?

When you hear “I love you” and believe it – no questions asked?

– soo

Let those who love you love you

Let those who love you love you
Let light shine through yonder window
Through darkened night
Into the deep and locked away place in your heart

Let those who want you have you
Stop
Breath
No more chasing after shadows of what if
Turn around
Meet the one running towards you

Let what is yours be yours
Like the timber of his voice
The soft and woody smell of his shirt that lingers
Let it warm you
Remind you that, while it may not be so all over the world,

In this corner of brick and steel

In this patch of cotton and spice

You will always be worthy of love

-soo

Ancient

I want to go back to the days when I thought 30 was ancient,
when the best part of my week was crispy crust pizza day,
when nothing mattered but this place,
this moment.
There was no longing for better.
Better was already here.
There was no questioning if someday.
That someday had already come.
I was certain I would be something, when the time came.
I was never anxious,
never uncertain,
always bold.
I wish I was as cool as I was at 7.
I wish I was as certain as I was at 12.
I wish I could silence the fear that I might never amount to anything at all and remember the days of counting down to snowfall and crispy crust pizza
and knowing everything would turn out alright.

– soo

an unraveling

I couldn’t tell at first what was happening
But I know now.
It was, in fact, an unraveling.
All I heard at the time was this creaking,
a releasing,
a letting go and tearing down of all I had built myself upon.

It wasn’t much, I know.
It came tumbling down like a deck of cards –
all with the tug of just one loose string.
What I had called fine silk,
delicate lace –
You called twine,
kindling.
With a pull, it came to nothing in my hands.

If there had been a fire,
it would have set ablaze
If I had had a fire, I would have torched it myself.
But there was no fire.
Only wind whipping through these raw and open parts,
just He
or She –
that great benevolence in the sky,
conspiring to do me good,
bidding me, peace – be still.

I couldn’t see it then,
as it all fell apart,
as that slight and lackluster tug
tore the whole thing asunder,
But I see it now.

They needed to pry the sordid pieces from my hands
In order to salvage what was left –
what was good
what was holy
In order to create this broken and beautiful tapestry
I now wear with pride.

-soo