I sit before flowers
hoping they will train me in the art
of opening up
I stand on mountain tops believing
that avalanches will teach me to let go
but I am here to learn.
Shane Koycza (via fleuretta)
you want a romance with my blackness.
and how it holds you.
how it illuminates your skin. makes you break your
breath. against itself.
and how is this possible.
when your world has never made you breath. not once. ever. but my blackness
you think about your white in a way you have never. you are open. a question. alive. and now hungry.
my blackness is your first love.
you are convinced it is. showing you what your eyes could ‘never’ see before. a ‘world’ bigger. brighter. darker. dusky and wild.
and it’s cosmic. your relationship with how the night rolls off me into your hands. for others. but secretly. just for you.
you and my blackness are soulmates. you met so
you could learn. more about yourself. and change. grow. be better.
because you always knew you were not like the others. who made sure they ate one white thing everyday. no. you were always uncomfortable with yourself.
my blackness came to save you.
seduce you into becoming more of yourself.
it is this heady trip. this painful awesome tryst. that brings you, flushed and moon eyed. to my door with thank yous. and i love yous. you have taught me to be a better person.
but this was never a relationship. i have no idea who you are. and i laugh
incredulous and insulted
at the notion
my blackness could ever be your first love.
fetish, nayyirah waheed (via nayyirahwaheed)
never stop reblogging.