Please don’t become someone I’ll have to write an ending to.

– unaiza n. // 13 word story

i love you, it’s as simple as that.

Should I step back and pretend that I don’t feel the same?

unaiza n. // I love you so fucking much

There’s an appetite for light,

there are love songs,

lilac gardens, bed of lilies,

warm coffee, stack of books,

honey dripping.

There’s slow dancing,

the moon, the stars, rain,

and then there’s you

andmy hands that will

never stop reaching out for you.

- unaiza n. // my heart is pouring out of my hands

But boy, your heart looks a lot like mine to hold.

unaiza n. // mine to hold

“Is there something you desperately wish you could be?”

“Yes, yours.”

unaiza n. // if I were yours.

but movies end before the real world begins, darling.

- unaiza n.

I’m all out of words, smile at me again.

unaiza n. // being a writer is nothing but looking at you & creating an eternity of words.

Maria voll der gnade

Www.instagram.com/elenastrawberry

live slowly

not alone, but lonely

what are you reading?

soft summer aesthetic

chaotic journaling

why don’t we run away?

romantic academia

window

My tongue tends to cut

And all my hands know is to destruct.

I had painted the walls crimson

Of the house which was once left to be burnt.

I settled on the darkest shade of blue for the curtains

And chose grey furniture for the living room.

The half burnt clock doesn’t work but is still hung like my dire need of some permanence

And I placed a mirror in my kitchen, to watch myself when I’m content.

None in my bedroom though, there’s nothing good to be looked at.

But a diary remains on the side table, filled with the ink of color red

And I’ll warn you there’s nothing pretty underneath

For these wounds of mine fail to do nothing else but at the slightest touch - bleed.

I would’ve written poetries for you. I would’ve memorised all of your laughs. I would’ve compared your smile with that of thousand radiating suns. I would’ve called the moon by your name and talked only about you with all of my friends. But I knew you could never be the one for me, because you were unaware of all the different ways one can love and your way, would just reduce the other person to dust. You used to call it love but could you really understand? You were always on the receiving end, never the one who first fell. And I knew it even before looking into your eyes that you weren’t the one to keep. So, instead of falling without any caution, I carefully stepped back from the cliff.

I think I have mistranslated myself to some great extent.

Because when I tell you,

“I’m tired.”

All I really mean is,

“Can you please hold my hand?”