It’s the sense of touch. In any real city, you walk, you know? You brush past people, they bump into you. In this world, nobody touches you. We’re always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other, just so we can feel something.

What made it hard for my heart to bear was knowing at the end of the day how painful it was for my heart to have God because having him meant carrying too much understanding and forgiveness.....There will come a point when your soul will be too weary to bear it.

How can I not listen to my inner voice telling me to forgive you even though it knows you will break it again?

We traded quiet days when no one loved us, with a tumultuous day, hoping that someone would do so, and we were the righteous children of loss.

Somewhere in there he knew how to love.

Forgive your parents for not being able to love you the way you need it. Then forgive yourself for going out and looking for that love in all the wrong places.
There is levels to this healing shit.

My mind is bruised. From the relationships I had. From the friends I had.From the people I loved. From the thoughts I think. From bits of my individuality. From the me that I am. From my flaws and my scars. From my saneness. From everything I lived through and though it is shadowed most times to keep me from weeping a 100 years of sadness. It is sometimes naked showing me all its bruised pasts. I don't think it will but there may come a day where I will heal from what I don't know or talk about.
•yeab journals•

I wish I had a new work for you but my dumb ass mind isn't being productive. New comers enjoy. Love y'all🖤

"I can't sleep without you. Noone has ever held me like you"

I think my soul longs for the time I didn't put label to my illness.

Mothers are supposed to protect their children.

You don't find love and live in a chaos free life after that. That was not how I loved. I stumbled upon it. My whole body trembled in her sight. I wanted to fall in her and so I did. I wanted to collapse in her touches. I had that smile she loved. Do you know where it came from? It came from the pleasure I found each time it became hard to breath when she caressed my body. I never wanted her to be mine so she could untangle my life. That weared me out enough. I wanted her to complicate it.....tangle it so that when she actually decides to leave me from ou warm bed overlooking the sea in marsielle or in the middle of the festivals in madrid or if if she loses to the stones dragging her in the ocean and actually drown with all my love...I wanted to be prepared. I wanted to stop leaving and untangle my web...gracefully like the way Giselle danced . I wanted her love to hit me like a thunder. I wanted it to be like a car crash so deadly it puts its victim in a coma. My whole body numb
Only my heart
Only my mind
Only my skin
All my organs
All of which she tamed
I just put on a happy face
As they idolized her
Breath for her
Beat for her
Ache for her
Became senseless for her
Lightened up for her
Dimmed for her
Fall for her
Fight for her
Lose for her
Die for her
And most crucially LIVE for her
This is a letter to you God
I wrote all these words cause I wanted to remind you how I loved and I have questions
Did you not see her? Did you not see me? Can't you not feel my heart? Did you not feel hers? Did you not see the bathroom tiles frowning in her blood? Did you not hear me force open the bathroom door? And if you really do came at night to protect her,did you not feel the marks as you touched her body? Did you not see my love? Cause that painter in bodrum saw it when he drew us? Was it hard for you to protect her? I have to get this off my chest..........
If you are really there as they say you are and I you really did see her wandering around feeling purposeless,empty,anxious,all her innocence drained,without any doubt lost and abandoned. I need to know that you did see and observed what she had to conquer. Now you just make me wonder,Do you really see and go blind,as the world knocked her down, as it spat on her. I mean what kind of father does that?.........
-Yeab T🌬

I found this old work lying around...its called ALL MY LOVE BOTTLED UP...I'll upload half of it some other time...enjoy. Hope you like it🖤

when i look in the mirror, i can see my 6-year-old self and i always whisper “i’m sorry” as if i could comfort that little child.

• @regretletters •