Zehra Naqvi, from The Knot of My Tongue: Poems and Prose; “Dear Baba”
Miss Yukio Chatterjee Lohan
I aspire to have it all—
The drive to create my own niche in this god forsaken city
But suddenly, I’ve realised that the simple joy of you playing with my hair is the only treasure I pray for.
That’s the only thing I will ever fight for.
— natalie díaz, from “american arithmetic”, postcolonial love poem (via letsbelonelytogetherr)
“She falls, not like rain, nor like the weeping of skies, But in pirouettes; each flake… A whispered secret spun from the breath of stars.
How happy she looks, gilded in sunlight, blushing at the glances of children, stretching herself across fields… Like she’s always belonged.
Yet in her mirror, she sees only glass.
Not the frost laced wonder, not the shimmer in her descent,
But an absence; a definite pale ache…”
Fyodor Dostoevsky, from a letter featured in Letters of Fyodor Michailovitch Dostoevsky to his Family & Friends
I like Live Photo’s sm❤️🩹
𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯
“He looked into my eyes and softly whispered how much this meant to him, holding on tightly as if he would never let go. My mind couldn’t help but tear up in front of him as his grip tightened. ‘You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, and I love you so much.’ I had never experienced love before. What is this feeling that suddenly made me cry without guilt? How can someone be so haunted yet so kind when every door has been shut in front of him?”
– Audrey Hepburn
—Andrea Gibson, "Good Light," Lord of the Butterflies
They/Them | 22 | INFJ | Geography major | Spilled emotions and Stills | Instagram sumedhachattopadhyayy | Alter Ego: @monetsirises in Tumblr.
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