find me

it’s 6 am. can’t sleep.
I want someone to play me acoustics
while I learn to find my voice
white sheets, frozen morning
learn to find my voice

it’s new year’s eve
wide awake. I want to count down
until twelve, then until one, then
until the new year is just a blip
on a radar a tiny wrinkle
meaningless

it’s too early to rise
too late to sleep
the atmosphere is so blue that
when I lift my hands to my eyes,
they are periwinkle colored

I wonder if my eyes look
like bits of sky,
wonder why I haven’t yet learned
to say things without a hitch in my voice
in my heart

if I stood
at the edge of the universe
would you come looking for me?
would you catch me around the waist
and say nothing
and watch the horizon fade into
time and back again?

it’s 6 am I can’t sleep
sky as never ending as the ocean
thoughts as unreachable as
its depths

find me
my mouth forms the words:
find me.

I will bleed for better reasons this year.
naasirheydari:

al-Latif: the one who saves you in the subtlest of ways such that you don’t even realize you were in danger. 
insidegossipgirl:

B.L.
ramshaat:

MY FAV CHUCK AND BLAIR PICTURE EVER. Reblogging this for the second time now.
I’ve seen photographers get on their knees to capture an angle,
And painters lay on their backs to cover their canvas,
A lover gets on one knee with ring and heart in hand,
And farmers bow their backs as they tilth the land,
So why is it then considered so strange,
For a man to fall in prostration in plain view
Of all, in the middle of that street you know
Is he not an artist, or a lover, with seeds to sow?