...

His lips tasted of liquor.
Mine, lime.
He was my poison.
I was his antidote.

To the strong, sorry, cool man/woman.

Soo I stopped writing my "inspiration" for my pieces cause I couldn't always explain "what led."
But this was inspired by the numerous emotions I have felt for the past few days and another piece I was going to put up tomorrow (might still) but felt it was too sad and was too revealing. So... here it goes.

First words:

“What did Santa say to the prostitute?”

“Umm….”

“Hohoho!” and she burst out laughing.

"You must remember that you are human. Before this world came to change you. To turn you into this oblivious robot you have become. Oblivious of how far you have traveled. You were, and still are, human.

And so it's okay to fall. And it is even more okay to be sad that you have fallen.

And it's okay to give your best to something, or invest all you have in someone and still fail.

And it is okay to love. To love something or somebody more than you should.

And it's okay to be confused.

And it’s okay to be overwhelmed.
And it's okay to want to take a break. And to take it.
And it's okay to cut yourself some slack. To realize that you may not be everything you want to be, but you are pretty awesome. 

And it's okay to not have a "passion"

And it's okay to acknowledge that you have lost. And that it upsets you, more than you can imagine.

And it's okay to not know how to let go.

And it's okay to have that thing that "kills" you.

And it’s okay to have no control over so many things that affect you.

And it's okay to acknowledge that something upsets you more than you think it should.

And it’s okay. It is important. To talk about it. To talk about all of it.

And it's okay, but even more, important to seek help.

The more important thing is to address and overcome.

The strong (or if you prefer, “cool”) man/woman isn't the man/woman who hides fresh wounds

The strong man/woman is the one who displays healed/healing scars.

Who gives people the chance to try to fix the broken, support the weak.

                            

And lastly, it's okay to be a work in progress.

Because we are all puzzles. And in the overwhelming façade that the world has become, it is easy to believe that some people have put together most of the pieces.

But quite honestly, 

No one has.”

Last “words”:          

“({})” – Blackberry Messenger “hug” smiley.

Actually, I think with this, I do not have to put up that post tomorrow.

In memory of Zainab Ayo Omolabi.
I love and miss you with emotions unvisited. 

I hope if there is such a thing as a second life, you choose life.

...

Because someone has looked into my eyes and has found the stars.
And it is a terribly exotic, exhilarating and frightening feeling.

Train Station

She sat at the train station, watching people and trains go by.

It is because you are this mirror of loss and laughter and fear.

That is why it is so difficult to function.

It is because you are a battle.

Inside you is a battle.
Between fear and grace.

And it will not let you function.

And it makes you wonder what the fight is for.

Why you will not let yourself sink.

Why you will not let yourself feel.

It makes you wonder.
And it makes you cry. And it makes you confused.

You make me want to run.
Thoughts of you, make me want to run.
To no where.
You make me want to run into nothingness.

But not really.
Because there is so much to be experienced.
So much to laugh about.
So much to overcome.

It is such a confusing emotion to feel.
To not know how you feel.

She sat at the train station, watching people and trains go by.
And in that moment, her mind was not her own.


This blog is becoming a confusing diary lol.

To Love.

To love. Is to give yourself away.

To trust is to invest in the unknown.

To love is to trust.

To trust is to walk on the streets of love.


We all carry burdens. But we know not how to share. 

So we walk with hunched backs around masked streets.

We all carry burdens.

But we know not how to share.

And so those few moments in which we realize we do not have to hold our mouths.

We take off our clothes.

And stare at our naked bodies.

Negotiating our scars.

But we know not how to heal.

So we wear our clothes and go back to the masks of our homes.


To love is to depend.

To love is find a mind reader.


To trust is to let you take off my clothes.

To love. Is to stand naked.

To love is wear your clothes home.

Happy Early Valentine's. x

(Clothes somewhat refers to masks/burdens)

Melting Candles

I like the smell of liquor on your skin.

The playfulness of inebriation on our tired minds.

It was one of those days our hands felt like sweet-scenting melting candles

Our lips like cigarettes and sweet liquor.

Our love was this plethora of emotions.

A sickening mix of brown eyed blushes and ruffled short skirts.

Impromptu kisses over textbooks and blushing actions under tables.

Our love was grey feet from running in the euphoria of unspoken kind words.

We were drunk on nostalgia.

My heart hadn't beat so fast before.

With this longing glistening in your eyes.

We crashed.

Like two unwilling robots.

Programmed to run in the other direction.

We crashed.

My lips meeting yours first.

 Holding on to your breath like a source of life.

We crashed.

Your hand pulling on my skirt.

This sweet uncontrollable desire.

Like liquor and melting candles.

I like the taste of liquor on your lips.

The playfulness of inebriation on our tired minds.

Liquor.

Normally I'll have a story or some sort of inspiration behind my writing. But there really isn't a story behind this one. I was literally just sitting down minutes ago, channeling my random thoughts and this came about. I'm not sure what it's about myself.
I have a feeling this will be happening pretty often from now, seeing as my mind is to busy to settle down and let me write as soon as I think of something.
I hope you all have a great weekend! :)

We sat in the shells of our former selves.

Listening to the heartbeat of burdened souls.

These cracked selves we have created.

What we did to us...

 

Our lights were the taste of liquor.

Our hearts  the inebriation of cigarettes.

We melted,

Slowly..

Like snow.. on a cold sunny morning.

 

Our love...

My love.

Was a fade of itself.

A present memory.

 

We lived in the nostalgia of our imaginations.

Look what we did to us.

Look at the scars on the edge of our smiles.

See how we don’t find our eyes as we speak.

 

This is what we did to us.

This is how we tore ourselves apart.

Looked after the pieces of our decay.

 

I hope we find this laughter we search for in the dark corners.

I pray our feet lead us to the Promised Land.

And I hope we relive these days of youth.

These days we have let melt away...

Like wax burned in slow lustful heat.