"

She sleeps all day,
dreams of you in both worlds, 
tills the blood in and out of uterus,
wakes up smelling of zinc.

Grief sedated by orgasm,
orgasm heightened by grief. 

God was in the room
when the man said to the womanI love you so
much wrap your legs around
me pull me in pull me in pull
me in pullme in pull mein 
pullmein

Sometimes when he had her
nipple in his mouth she’d whisper 
                 Allah-
this too is a form of worship. 

It smelt like flowers the last time she
buried the friend with the kind eyes. 
The last time she buried her face
into his mattress, frangipani.

Her hips grind, 
pestle and mortar,
cinnamon and cloves. 
Whenever he pulls out: 
                   loss.

"

Grief Has Its Blue Hands in Her Hair by Warsan Shire (via notmanetstype)

(Source: soleilglow)

newkhakis:

my Lying Ass: no that wasnt about you

(Source: donatart)

atoubaa:

Jeux d’eaux - Germain Kiemtoré