I’m Getting A New Apartment Very Soon. I Can See The Melodrama / Wes Anderson Deco Ideas Piling Up

My heart, calling from a phone booth / in the rain.

Sarah Morgan, from “Train,” Animal Ballistics (via tristealven)

We've been having so much fun in Italy; a lot of strolling, talking, swimming and diving into the Mediterranean. I've been writing a lot too; this country, a fistful of love.

The first known poet in history, Enheduanna, was an Iraqi woman. She wrote about Inanna on tablets in the cuneiform language.  The interesting thing about her is that she had a position or title. It was “The keeper of the flame.” I think that if a poet should have any role at all, it should be (wherever and whenever) the same: “keeper of the flame.”

—Dunya Mikhail, from “New Directions Interview with Dunya Mikhail,” Cantos (April , 2010)

maghrib at home

Mouna Kalla-Sacranie © more here

I washed my broken heart with beach waves and sunsets. I stitched my battle scars with threads of leftover love. I stood in a sea of strangers, without hangover, whatsoever. I am every invisible painting on your skin. You wish they were from my lips and my fingertips. I am the silence in your living room You wish we could dance together on thirty-second floor without music on. I am those deep conversations you wish you could have from a stormy evening until sunny morning. But you didn’t get it, did you? Women like me don’t take weak men Men who couldn’t handle their chaos wouldn’t be able to handle ours. Men who come back would always be unwelcome. I was the decision you didn’t make. I was the war you didn’t fight for. I am a place you can’t come home to. There’s no point crawling back to me. I’m over you.

Shaine Salcedo, The City Doesn’t Hum Your Name Anymore (via wnq-writers)

Do you ever realize how badly you’re going to miss a moment while you’re living it? Like wow, these are the good days. I am here and I am happy and I feel alive.

Unknown (via sunsetquotes)

It occurred to me last night, while the moon cried for Xanax, how maybe if I focused hard enough for the right amount of time, I might learn to accept the fragments you left. Perhaps one of these tomorrows will find me walking into the ghosts of you the way I now walk into that cold Parisian rain: compliant and composed, unbothered despite every pore on this skin that clothes my bones begging me to bathe under the fires of the sun.

Jezzini (Parisian Rain on Orbit(X))