Azra Tabassum's Blog, page 228

"The female doesn’t want a rich man or a handsome man or even a poet, she wants a man who understands..."

“The female doesn’t want a rich man or a handsome man or even a poet, she wants a man who understands her eyes if she gets sad, and points to his chest and say : “Here is your home country.””

- Nizar Qabbani (via kuttymolle)

is like the forgive me father poem about a girl lusting over a guy???

Why ask me when you could ask the author? Her URL is right there?

"There is an in-between - a resting ground - purgatory. Cleansing sin, and rising like smoke against..."

“There is an in-between - a resting ground - purgatory.

Cleansing sin, and rising like smoke against mirror.

I found you there.

You, a boy with no fixed designation, just smoke and mirror.

I found you chained to sin, head tilted toward the gates of heaven,

Feet glued to lust, hands folded in prayer.

Forgive me for I learned his lines better than yours Father;

Crooked lines on skin.

White lines on glass.

Lines against table tops and white sheets and cold walls.

Lines that made me believe in you, Father.

Lines that made me believe that you and he are the same Father.

I saw you crumble, pick up the mess created

Cleanse your sin.

I saw you taint yourself, head clouded

Destroyed purity.


Forgive him Father, he ate from the hand of Eve.

Forgive him Father, he has recited verses on my skin.

Forgive him Father.


I drink lust like wine - this is the blood.

Forgive me Father.


I bite his lip like bread - this is the body.

Forgive me Father.


Forgive me Father

For I have sinned.”

-

Forgive Me Father For I Have Found Faith, writing by m.k.

(partially inspired by Azra T.’s beautiful poem 'Take Me To Church')

Would you say you're a hopeless romantic?

I’m a fuckin’ idiot. My heart is going to lead me all the way into some bottomless ocean I won’t be able to get myself out of, and worse, I’ll let it. I’ll go smiling. 

Your soul is beautiful

Do you think so? Have you seen it? I’m not so sure, but thank you for the sentiment, darling x

i always, always see posts like “sometimes i don’t talk to my friends for like days or...

i always, always see posts like “sometimes i don’t talk to my friends for like days or weeks, it doesn’t mean i don’t love them i’m just bad at maintaining communication” and it fills me with both awe and bafflement because i can’t go for more than three days of quiet with any close friend before i’m like “DON’T YOU LOVE ME ANYMORE?” 

I want to experience the emotions written in your last poem. Gosh...your words, they made me long for something unknown but in a really, really good way. does that even make sense?! it doesn't matter, i ADORE YOU!!!!!

It does make sense! I’m so glad you enjoyed it and that it made you yearn. Hopefully you will experience those feelings and they’ll be just as wonderful as you expected xx

"That’s the trouble with loving a wild thing: You’re always left watching the door."

“That’s the trouble with loving a wild thing: You’re always left watching the door.”

- Edith Pattou, East (via observando)

What you missed in my relationship with alonesomes, mostly that...

What you missed in my relationship with alonesomes, mostly that she’s an idiot

"You’re standing against a wall, holding onto a girl whose knees you’ve shot without touching...."

“

You’re standing against a wall, holding onto a girl whose knees you’ve shot without touching. Holding, but not in the way you’ve ever known it. Hold like you’re drowning, hold like you’re buried, hold until your arms are trembling from the strength of it. She’s elastic against you, she’s all wilting and drooping and long long lashes hiding eyes painted black from wanting. She won’t look at you because she doesn’t know how to without spilling desire.

You’re both talking a language that neither of you can understand. But it sounds like ‘please’ or it sounds like ‘touch me everywhere.’ But this is more than your fingers or your mouth. This is the five seconds that it takes to peel her self-conscious away from her body. This is the five minutes of holding her hips between your hands and pressing your fingers into the stretch marks there and saying ‘you’re so fucking beautiful.’ This is really meaning it. This is thanking God for your hands and their ability to feel. You think maybe the dip of her sternum is forgiveness. This is how the soft of her against you makes your breath ragged. This is your chest heaving and sweat on your upper lip. The way you’ve forgotten the first name of every girl you’ve ever touched. The way her hair feels between your knuckles when you yank it. The noise she makes.

This is the hour that it takes for her to believe that you want her, skin and all. And when she believes you, you’ll know. Her defences will fall off her like water. She’ll shrug the sweater off her shoulders and that strip of bare skin will drive you so crazy that you’ll think about it for weeks later and it’ll make you hard again. You’ll text her saying that you’re thinking about her and your colleagues will ask why the freckles on your cheeks have connected to turn you bright red and you’ll mumble something about the sun. It’s not the sun. It’s the way she fell apart when you bit her neck and moaned honey into her throat. You’ll both be so brimming the ocean will rise jealous to see you. You’ll meet a girl and she’ll trust you and it will feel like undressing with all your clothes still on. It’ll feel like the raw of a wound and the relief of healing. She’ll put her throat in your open hands and close her eyes. This is what trust looks like.

Dip your fingers into her swollen mouth. Lean closer, breathe the words, you’ll fill her like this: ‘you are so beautiful and I’m going to put my hands everywhere.’

”

- Azra.T