Azra Tabassum's Blog, page 178

"My boy was my dream and my dream has been shot dead."

“My boy was my dream and my dream has been shot dead.”

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- Father of a young boy killed in Peshawar Attack (via qvenswan)

edit: his name is Tahir Ali, his son’s name was Abdullah. inna lillahi wa inna ilaihi rajiun.

(via zevranns)

Photo

what bothers me immensely is that it just seems to matter less. people aren’t as open or as...

what bothers me immensely is that it just seems to matter less. people aren’t as open or as furious when talking about it. when little brown boys and little brown girls are being shot in a place where they’re supposed to be safe and protected you should be fucking outraged,you should be heartbroken. these little babies went to school today and they expected to see their mama’s again and they’re not going to be able to do that and if that’s not intensely heartbreaking and worth being angry about, i don’t know what is

"Baby, you’ve got your hands up and you’re praying to him like he’s a God but he’s no God. He’s just..."

“"Baby, you’ve got your hands up and you’re praying to him like he’s a God but he’s no God. He’s just a man. And he’s only loving you like half of one.””

- Azra.T “A Letter From The Other Woman”  (via vomes)

Let's post a quote so I look deep

Oh my god, go and get some cake or something, do something that makes you happy, quit bugging strangers on the internet it’s very sad 

I think you are so full of yourself.

"Show me someone not full of herself and I’ll show you a hungry person." - Nikki Giovanni

Link to "take me to church" Poem?

Right here x

"Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good..."

“Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.”

- Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar (via versteur)

"Hoping, body praying, how I unfold my hands, how I say, I miss you but I’m done trying to force..."

“Hoping, body praying, how I unfold my hands, how I say, I miss you but I’m done trying to force breath into a dead things’ mouth. We’re not alive, not anymore. This makes me sad. They way we don’t say much, or nothing. The way it was light and then suddenly, it wasn’t. It’s night and we’re staring at each other for hours, willing the fire from the cave but our hands are too cold and our hands don’t remember how to rub together. If you want me, darling, then you’re wanting me in ways I can’t understand. Let me tell you. I wanted to be gone with you. I wanted be bodies kneading, making energy, drawing lightning to the room. Touch your face and curl up inside you. I say quietly, You don’t hurt the one’s that love you. You don’t say, You’re special to me. I don’t want to lose you, and do nothing to keep me around. Darling, look out the window. See how the moon is low and dim and small. This means the night is over for us, the trees dead, the stars burnt out. Let me pull you gently from the knee now. Let me take one last look. It’s red there. It’s still red. It reminds me of healing. It reminds me of what my body will look like when it finally forgets you.”

- In The Meantime, Karese Burrows (via fluerishing)

i'd like you to know that your poem take me to church has kind of become a thing between my boyfriend and i. i wrote the poem in a journal of cute things i'm giving him for christmas, and he handwrote the poem in fancy script for me for our anniversary.

That makes me so happy :’)