Breaking Breaking Breaking

I've nodded and being complicit in my own destruction, maybe more than I should have. because that was way easier than arguing about it, so much easier than just saying no because I am so used to the word falling on deaf ears. Our relationship wasn’t that bad, I say to my girlfriends. But I would close my eyes and leave my body and whisper to my bleeding heart: turn over, you don’t need to like it. god knows that’s not what he wants anyway. you just need to do it. close your eyes and lose yourself to him. do what he wants. do it. felt myself cower into nothingness. again.

8:47pm. arabic love songs. did you know that there is a whole song dedicated to you?

when you are sad, I’ll call for your mother to ask how the crescent moon can turn full again. I’ll ask her how to wipe your tears and clear the sky, let rain be replaced by sunshine.

when you are angry, I will look for your father in your eyes, soften your heart in a little bowl of rice milk. when you kiss me, I’ll taste all the anger melting away. you’ll taste like paradise, albi, like the lips of Adam tasting the forbidden apple except this is real, this is earth and we will never lose this Eden.

habibi, I love you even in pain, even in anger. I will leave lavender under your pillow so your dreams are lilac, like a sunset over the Mediterranean. I will make you a cup of Turkish tea so you remember that the world is still sweet even when it is cruel. I will tell you in our mother tongue that my heart bleeds only for you.

tag yourself: autumnal/halloween edition 🥀♡

ghost maiden~ ♡ a castle shrouded in mist, playing chopin’s nocturnes by candlelight, early morning walks across frosty meadows, a white victorian nightdress with a wilting lily of the valley bouquet, bewailing the day you were abandoned at the altar, the ‘giselle’ ballet, tear-stained love letters thrown from the tower or into the icy lake...

19th century vampire~ ♡ attending the opera in a moth-eaten velvet gown and lace gloves, a cursive-inscribed first edition of ‘carmilla’ from your first lover, hosting elaborate feasts for the local nobility but only drinking red wine, a dusty french boudoir of old treasures: vintage glass bottles of perfume and antique art, reminiscing with byron and wilde...

forest-born witch~ ♡ mushroom picking at night, a cat-shaped familiar composed of shadow (named circe), singing in latin to our lady the moon or hekate, velvet spell bags of herbs and tumbled smoky crystals, casting off one’s earthly form to step through the incense veil into the world of spirits, a cauldron of stewed apples and blackberries for teatime (guests include the grimm and medea)...

academic-turned-detective~ ♡ ancient ink-blotted manuscripts of homer’s odyssey, solving a century-old murder mystery, pearl buttoned blouses and shabby oxfords, wandering a cemetery with hot cider or cinnamon cocoa, haunting gloomy chapels on rainy afternoons, melting wax to seal a hand inked letter to an old friend...

angel of sweet death~ ♡ a lovely-hearted heartbreaker, worn out ballerina slippers and a black silk slip (with a cashmere cardigan for the evening), ‘girl’s night’: black and white horror films and devil’s food cake, tying a velvet ribbon to a tree branch as to not get lost in the enchanted forest, follower of lana del rey and stevie nicks, weeping tiny black pearls and coughing up dried rose petals...

hi :) my name is moona. I write (and paint!) and this is my poetry/prose blog. feel free to direct message me!! I am constantly in awe of love and how it has sweetened my life, which is why you’ll find a LOT of that shit here. I write about other things too, things that are personal to me and things I’m still learning to be okay with. I truly hope you find solace/healing/joy in my writing and if not, I just hope you can relate to some of it. I’ve found that words have the inimitable power to make us feel less lonely.

enjoy! <3

and i would do anything for you to stay

Forough Farrokhzad, from Another Birth: Selected Poems of F. F.; “In The Dark,”

Love is admitting I’m human but hey, so are you and we’re doing our best and hoping our best is enough. Love is a coffee mug accompanied with an apology and a tight hug. Love is asleep on the couch, love plays way too many video games, love needs reassurance, love is messy, disorganised, flawed, irritating. Love is human.

I used to practise perfection in the form of open legs and a closed mouth, smiling and saying “hey I won’t be inconvenient for you, baby, after all I’m the granddaughter of the witch you managed to burn”. but god, I’m so tired of being propped up and jadaposed. so tired of the hackling in the street and the fear at night and the “I know you want it” from men who look like knives. I’m so tired of being told my body is too woman to really mean anything.

And I’ve grown tired of hearing speeches like the one I’m making now. I’ve grown tired of saying I was raped and I am black and I am a woman and that I want to make a change. screaming all these facts into a world that remains so deaf to me. deaf to people like me.

deaf to the little girls who are married off to men three times their age. deaf to the teenagers who are prey to older boys and men and teachers. deaf to the women in the workplace. deaf to the trans-girls.

grab em by the pussy and metoo and date rape and “oh my god, him too?”. what am I supposed to do anymore? how am I supposed to structure myself as a sexy woman but not as a woman whose asking for it? how can I explain to others that they should be mad that this world is on fire, rather than that it’s ashes are ugly? when did the common good get so political? I’m so tired of it all. so tired.

there are so many important things to resist and I’m still trying to tell myself that I don’t need to use sex as a currency. that I should not feel forced into it. that my body is my own. but it is not the most important thing about me. all this internalised self hatred for a body that has done nothing but exist.