I love this set with burning passion


recovery ▪ noun [s or u] ▪ /rɪˈkʌv.ər.i/

  1.  the process of getting back something lost, especially health, ability, possessions, etc.
  2.  the act or process of getting better; improvement.


this was their tragedy, he knew, to love with such a passion that it set your very soul alight. he had felt that burning in this chest when held octavia, all those years ago; dear god, he had thought, there is not a love that could eclipse this. but he was wrong because here she stood before him, in all her ruined glory, and he felt that ache in his chest again; that burning brimstone in his bones and lightning that brewed in his blood. he bent his head against the fire as she walked away and clenched his fists to quell the typhoon that crashed against his skin. he would take that drink tonight, if not for her, than for the thousand times she walked beside him, and the one time she walked away.
—  our love was born from destruction and forged by war (s.m.b)
Setting Fire to Steel Wool: The Love’s Free, Not the Rent

There ain’t enough herb to smoke
or remorse and courage to swallow
to strike a nerve and reach out 
to you. I’m lost and too high. 

I’m caught in a light of confusion
and over head a heavy mist of
nostalgia falls and I begin to crave 
your love like you’ll come back.

I want you so bad I live off
memories, of all our good days, 
and times we loved, so beautifully; so
accepting, now, of what we each couldn’t see.

Even now, I’d give you everything.
I’d give you everything, regardless
of the circumstances. Regardless—
regardless and, even now, I’d love
you, even more passionately than before.

You can’t reject it. You just can’t.
I loved you so hard I made
room in my garden for your greens
and wanted no rent for love.

Someone always gets hurts
when there’s a heart involved.
No one wins when you aren’t honest
with yourself, even now.

Girl, there ain’t enough.
You can try and pretend and mask 
the hurt with enough herb to
relax your ass to sleep.

But I can’t keep surviving on
memories, old warmth, and weed.
I need something more than old poetry.
Because you, beautifully, are enough, even now.

My love is the passionate Fire of Achilles
A dissident, Revolution personified
He feels far too much and far too little
His soul made for glory and his hands to hold the scales of justice
I, Patroclus, every lifetime I live
Falling in love with a descending star burning itself up in its mission to conquer the earth
He is the the red of blood
Beautiful and unnerving
His righteous fury sets the hearts of non believers ablaze
Yet mine burned out long ago
But somehow he creates a spark
And I believe for him I will let itself raze
I will set myself on fire if the blaze will keep him warm
But I make no effort to stop myself
Because I know from my ashes he will rise

The dream.

I fall deep into your eyes, and your gaze sets my heart a blaze.
I gasp at your touch, and shudder as you run your hand down my back.
And in this moment I find myself longing for you to hold me close, or kiss my hand, or do that thing you do to make me laugh.
You’ve set a fire in my soul that won’t go out, and the tiny flame it once was has grown into something else.
My love for you is everlasting, darling, and just like this flame
It’ll burn for you with such a passion within everlasting days.

Your fire. Your volatility. Your life. Your passion. It all would’ve set me ablaze in the most beautiful way possible, but it would’ve burnt me to ashes, consumed all of me till there was nothing left. I’m scared of fire, because the last time I played with matches I didn’t rise out of the ashes for years and years on end. Don’t start a fire you can’t control
—  I’m not fire proof

© Deborah Moraa

They say silence is the best poem,
But how can I be quiet when my heart is burning?,
Yearning for the love only you can give,
Call it fate, I’m a student of love,
From you I’m learning, 
This feeling I got, this passion I got,
This smile you brought,
I couldn’t ask for more,
I kept running all my life,
I kept hiding from love,
My heart I closed and locked,
But you, you’ve set it free,
This feeling , I hope it won’t fade away,
I’ll hold on I’ll stay, 
I won’t run unless to you,
Hold my hand pace by pace lets walk,
Each day at a time babe
Each day at a time.

Deborah Moraa is a Mombasa-based poet.

anonymous asked:

dude I love taylor swift with a burning passion and the bad blood music video set my soul on fire it was so good.

duuuude the only good thing about that video was the presence of Karlie, Gigi, Zendaya and Cara. Everything else was nonsense and basic. But you’re all allowed to like it anyways I dont really care

Today I had a lot more thoughts than usual on my mind. I realised that there are a lot a lot more type of kids that I’ve never came across before. Just because the ones I am interacting with seem to be innocent and obedient most of the times, doesn’t mean they don’t grow up… And when they grow up, there’s another kind of aura from them. Not as innocent, not as hardworking. And it sets me thinking: How do I bring them back on the right track? I always hope for people to stay gold, but it doesn’t seem possible anymore. For this world is already corrupted. But I have to applause for all those out there who try, who put in effort to guide the kids, have fun with the kids. And I hope y'all will continue to love and care for the kids, and never let the passion/flame burn out. 😊


setting you free was futile

letting you go was futile

because i still love you

with the same burning passion

i felt when you were still mine

and no amount of




or pain you cause

could change the emotional fire in my bones

and this was my unsolvable problem

that my system could never clear you out

that your name is forever etched in a corner of my mind

that i,

no matter what fight i put or effort i make

will never forget you

and as i lay on my bedroom floor,

looking for ways to pacify this craving for you

realize that

trying to move on is futile

trying to replace you was futile

and it will always remain that way