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she’s always been attracted to the beauty of darkness.
see that knife,
darlin’?
right
over there?
grab it, hold
it to your
chest -
listen to your
pulse,
and tear
don’t fret,
my love,
for i’ve
the mind
and lips
and moans
to sew
your chest
anew -
what’s the
point
in bleeding
blood,
when you’ve
the ability
to write
the truth?
the bags under my eyes are so heavy because they carry the weight of all my dead hopes and dreams
“i love lipstick. i want to write an essay about the politics of lipstick. i like lipstick that’s deep, deep red. i like lipstick that’s purple, lipstick that’s black and dark for when i want to dress up my melancholy. i like sharing lipstick with sisters. and i laugh at boys that think i wear lipstick for them to notice, i laugh, lipstick is an art you can’t ever understand. from picking out a color, testing it on the inside of my wrist, pursing my lips during the application of it. i like when i kiss a baby and leave lipstick on their cheek, when you hug someone and leave lipstick on their shirt, when it gets on your teeth and you use your tongue to get it off, when you sleep in lipstick and wake up with it on your pillow case. in 1997 mama left for ethiopia to see her mama for the first time in 12 years. i was six and i cried the entire way home from the airport. and when we came home there on the kitchen table was the teacup mama had been drinking out of. at the bottom a sip of tea and black cardamom seeds. and there on the rim of the cup the lipstick imprint of my mama’s kiss.”
– nomad manifesto (via theseasonofthebitch)
