Salinyay-blog - Bananafish

Way.

Ph:DanSpb

my mum is coming to paris on tuesday. we haven't seen each other in about a year and a half... i wanna get her flowers for when i pick her up at the airport. which kind of flower is ideal for this situation? which kind of flower shouts thank you for existing, thank you breathing by my side?

A lesson in forgetting:
 the past always heals faster
 when you’re not looking. The way we try and hold
 onto memories like they are more
 than water. The way we look 
into the pools of our past
 searching for minnows, searching for fish. A lesson in remembering:
 the water is always smoother
 in retrospect. Where are the waves? Where are the currents? The way in which we tell ourselves we could do it again. Dive in again.
 Make it out alive. Last night, your voice touched me in my sleep;
 I woke up thinking about waterfalls.

Kelsey Danielle, “A Lesson in Forgetting” (via pigmenting)

edit contact

in a poetic effort to become, i named every contact on my phone after a feeling.

juliette was adventurousness, or that rushy vertigo hiding at the bottom of a whiskey sour.

mom was comfort, or that first breath running through your lungs shortly after skylines have tried to suffocate your throat.

daf was desire, or spattered instincts behind blue doors & scratched backs on wooden floors.

matt was liberation, or flooding open in thoughts, running through cornfields & chasing dreams in heavy storms.

my father was fear, or still shadows in dark alleys; static threats: apparently harmless & silent, but waiting patiently for their queue.

& then there's you, the feeling i've been trying to stick a definition to. a devised attraction, an affection that stirred out of control. my own frankenstein stumbling along the back streets in my head... hunting for an origin; mumbling the name of his maker.

lost in an endless glossary of blurry feelings, i wonder: what's the word for italian euphonies hymned to my ear?

what's the word for stolen kisses & three-days beards?

what's the word for that love we so eagerly hid & then forgot where we put it?

- @skinthepoet

…for we are in such fragile skin, so close to getting lost in the in-between.

Eimear McBride, from The Lesser Bohemians (via luthienne)

but how Great would it feel to be someone’s first choice

It is quite unbelievable that there will be people that I will love unconditionally that I have not met yet. Somewhere out there, in a supermarket or singing in the shower, there are souls that have not touched mine yet but will, eventually.

// The Skies We’re Under j.d.m. (via poetryandthesea)

The way I splash your relentless name In shivers about me. Watch him wallow. If he tastes mud as bitter as this poem   Of mine, then I win – and you love me.

Jericho Brown, Grip (via: skinthepoet)