Salinyay-blog - Bananafish

I sit in the train barefoot,  and there’s a long way home.  I kiss you so often  in my thoughts. I never taught  I had to teach romance  but here I am; preaching one religion praying to one God. The God  that teaches men  to love their women.  My barefoot with  tired patches on,  my hands break with  longing. And no matter  how much you stay, my legs never get tired of you.  My feet on the passanger seat, writing drafts of poetry for a magnetic man.  My poems are the proof  that I can never think enough of you.

Cinderella by Royla Asghar (via poems-of-madness)

* by Alexey Dubinsky

more sunrises and less screen time.

more loving and less comparing love.

more happiness and less posting “happy” pictures on instagram.

more living in the now and less worrying about what hasn’t happened.

more tumblr and less instagram.

more yoga and less hitting snooze in the morning.

more real conversations and less talking about how drunk we got the night before.

more peace and less judgement.

more simplicity and less impulse buying.

more water and less coffee.

more self-love and less looking for love.

more living with intent and less having the wrong intentions.

more being responsible and less not studying for important things.

more music/books and less television.

more deep breaths and less not being able to control my life.

more forgiveness and less anger.

more self-soul searching and less looking for another soul right now.

black lips

five weeks before you broke my heart, i had this dream where my father stood in front of me. two generations lost in close-knit shadows, facing the other in the midst of a nightmare & staring deep into the vortex of each other’s eyes.  

in a rusty voice, he recited to my face every lie he’s ever told.

his childhood, the seize, the running, my mom, his misery.

in the rhythm of his words, in the flow of his lies, his lips began turning black.

Lie      after               lie, his lips, a shade d   e      e         p            e               r in the obscurity.

turning my back on this show proved useless, as my neck was stiff & my legs, knee-deep in thick soil.  

stare & listen, while tears water the ground

i tried screaming, as to suffocate the torture of his words with my own shriek. but my mouth was sealed closed & my hands, disloyal to my commands.

i woke up a fountain of cold sweat, sobbing.

….

two nights before we murdered our love in cold blood,   we met for drinks at a bar à vins. the gleam in our eyes yelled to the entire world how traces of ancient grapes ran in our blood. god were we playful while life was onto us.

sneaky little romance

we talked about it all that night: gravity & flying,      friction & fire, language & riddles. for the 500th time, you corrected my pronunciation of the letter u. & in the stretching of your mouth, i fell victim to the evident art in your beauty; jawlines dancing in perfect rhythm; an enigmatic symmetry traced in your face.  

on our way home, we walked the streets as if sidewalks were made for peasants & we had just been crowned kings. laughing,    stumbling, holding onto each other.

in a deserted street, you wrapped me in your arms while murmuring in a secretive voice:  

i love you

we both smiled.

& under beams of moonlight, while my eyes hunted for your eyes, i noticed red wine had stained your lips black.

- @skinthepoet

I try to gain on thoughts Collected

Scramble to top For perspective

A mind is slippery With justification

It’s so easy / to pool / At the bottom

by David Schermann http://flic.kr/p/uNobqJ

lets do an honesty hour ask me anything