page turn

all my pages have you in them
or have me, feeling you in them

all my pages tell the story
of the path we chose
of our downfall
of the love we found
and of the love we couldn't

all my pictures have you in them
or have me, feeling you in them

some torn, some burnt, some full of dirt
(all in the head)
making me feel things even today
some I blush to, some send angst, some sadness, some relief 

Revenge of the forgotten vagina

coming soon

Reading Lolita in Tehran

“You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place. Like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.” - Azar Nafisi

lying on your bed

i remember that first day
i told you
i want to be with you forever

we were lying on your bed
chatting
dont remember about what
dim yellow lights
the scent off of the diffuser in the air
staring at the ceiling
and then your eyes
staring at the ceiling
and then your smile

and i just said it
just did
i think you are it
i would want to be with you
...till the end

i said it
and i burst into flames inside
it was so much...
to say
to say out loud
to say in my head
to hear it

i said it and burst into flames

it was a long time ago
that first day

it was a long time ago
we said things

i want to be a junkie for some time

i want to be depressed, as i might have been forever in some corner of my heart
i want to be depressed, and do drugs, and drink liquor, and ramble on and on and fall, and smoke cigarettes, and laugh like every thing is hilariously ridiculous
i want to be depressed, and just be so eccentric that my true eccentric self feels intimidated by me
i want to be depressed, and stay in my room and cry rivers of salty madness
i want to be depressed, and yell out the window, and when people notice - laugh at their faces
i want to be depressed, and dance to the high octane tunes of people not caring
dance so hard my boobs feel like ribbons on the skirt of a cheer leader that go spinning 360 vertical and finally hit each other like Tibetan gongs
i want to be depressed, and live in a tent i build from scratch at Sulk Station
i want to be a junkie for some time
really
i want to be junkie for some time and not care a damn about anything but my own shit;
my life
my silence
my saggy tits
my cellulite
my brain infused with thoughts of depression
my want to be a junkie...
my fucking lack of inspiration and excitement to make all of the above happen

29on29

It's 12:06 am on my birthday
And it's quiet
It yells 29: the silence
Yellow lights
Phone on vibrate

No Sound

Just my mother yelling at me to blow the candles

One last time

It's 11 am, the day after my birthday.
I'm in his bed.
Wearing nothing but his smell.
Wrapped around my thighs, my crotch, my neck, my torso.
I'm in his bed after 6 weeks.
Familiarity is so much deeper in sense, that sense is in familiarity.

I wake up. His eyes still moving with dreams, shut close to my face.
Is he... can he... Well, it's done. It has been. We have been - done.
But things creep in and we creep into each other.

I get up, go into his bathroom.
"Going to use his toothbrush, one last time", I think.
I do.
I stare at my face in the mirror. Probably not going to look into this mirror butt-naked ever again. Probably.
I stare out the window. It's never looked like this before. 3 years and I never saw it.
Soaked in rain the sky morphs into the sea. The sea morphs into the sand. The sand morphs into me.
I cry.
Did I forget this already? This sight. This view. This. It's never looked like this before.
I slip back under his arm. Skins kissing. One last time.

After a few hours, I wake up. He sits by doing his thing. I stare. The nose, the hair, the ear, his lips. I stare. I glare. I try to make it last forever.

I wear his t-shirt.
One last time.
Smell it, feel it, be it - his skin.

["I'll show you the world one breath at a time", she said.]

He still has the post card.

'Then walked away leaving him breathless.'

I add to it on a piece of paper. And I cry.

I want to bite him.
"No"
One last time.
"No"
Let me leave a mark on you before I go.
"No"
I go.