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Amuna

@petalinaflowerstorm

Australian/ Lebanese
21
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nizariat
لآ أستطيع أن أقول لك : أحبك  لكني أستطيع كتابة الكلمة بشفتيّ  فوق جبينك ، بصمت وأنت نائم  لتلتقطها أصابع أحلآمك

I can't tell you : I love you
But I can write the words
With lips on your brow, silently when you sleep
So your dream finger can pick it

- Ghada al-Samman

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Dear past lover.It kinda sucks. When you meet someone for the first time and you instantly click. A week passes by and you’re so caught up in their personality that you don’t realise it’s 5 am on a school night as you talk about Harry Potter and cats. And two weeks go by and it hits you that you love that person and you’re so relived that you found someone as weird as you. And months go by and you fall deeper in love and those special compatible moments your share where you say something stupid and they reply back with something stupider, makes you burst with joy. And then it hits you. 5am on a school night. They’re all lies. It hits you that they played the victim of their own game. It hits you that you meant absolutely nothing to them that they couldn’t even consider you as their partner. And then it hits you at 3 am on a weekend. You meant nothing to them. And you realise that if they could move on in a matter of days, they’re not worthy of your fucking weirdness. They don’t deserve to know how much you love cats and they don’t deserve to know how fucking messed up your mind is. Because that is something so precious that someone so low of your worthiness does not deserve to hold that in their grasp. Dear past lover, fuck you,

a.s - to him

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“I’m not the same everyday. There are times where I’m loud and chatty, and there are times when I’m really quiet. I don’t think I can define myself.”

— (via bl-ossomed)

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“Urgent request! Don’t let the cat go inside the dorm! There are already 10 pregnant cats here!

Administration.”

Let Him In He Just Wants To

Fuck
Source: blednochka
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“Because sending a letter is the next best thing to showing up personally at someone’s door. Ink from your pen touches the stationary, your fingers touch the paper, your saliva seals the envelope, your scent graces the paper. Something tangible from your world travels through machines and hands, and deposits itself in another’s mailbox; their world. Your letter is then carried inside as an invited guest. The paper that was sitting on your desk, now sits on another’s. The recipient handles the paper that you handled. Letters create a connection that modern and impersonal forms of communication will never replace.”

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rest your head on my chest when the world feels heavy on you.