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I have my mother’s mouth and my father’s eyes on my face they are still together.

Warsan Shire

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Warsan Shire
Age: 36
Born: 1988
Born: January 1
Poet
Writer
Republic of Kenya
Together
Mouths
Still
Eyes
Face
Faces
Eye
Father
Mother
Shire
Stills
Mouth

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Don't assume, ask. Be kind. Tell the truth. Don't say anything you can't stand behind fully. Have integrity. Tell people how you feel.
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We took such care of tomorrow, but died on the way there.
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You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love.
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I know a few things to be true. I do not know where I am going, where I have come from is disappearing, I am unwelcome and my beauty is not beauty here. My body is burning with the shame of not belonging, my body is longing.
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When I love, I love: wholly, thoroughly, completely, drowning in everything. Every glance can be a conversation, eyes just playing and saying what needs to be said. Silence is loud, and the air becomes heavy. I want you. I want all of you.
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I am a lover without a lover. I am lovely and lonely and I belong deeply to myself.
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My heart is a flower blossoming out of my mouth.
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Document the moments you feel most in love with yourself - what you're wearing, who you're around, what you're doing. Recreate and repeat.
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Sad people have the gift of time, while the world dizzies everyone else they remain stagnant, their bodies refusing to follow pace with the universe. With these kind of people everything aches for too long, everything moves without rush, wounds are always wet.
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My name is indigenous to my country, it is not easy to pronounce, it takes effort to say correctly and I am absolutely in love with the sound of it and its meaning. Also, it's not the kind of name you baby, slip into sweet talk mid sentence, late night phone conversation, whisper into the receiver kind of name, so, of that I am glad.
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I’m overwhelmed. My biggest downfall is my brightest blessing, I feel too much, all the time. Ya Allah, if it’ll keep my heart soft, break my heart every day.
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Make peace with your body, it's not manmade, there are no flaws, there are no mistakes.
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My alone feels so good, I'll only have you if you're sweeter than my solitude.
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I won't glorify or romanticise heartbreak, for me it was a kind of death and I was forced to keep living.
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You can't make homes out of human beings.
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I tend to the wound so often, it never heals.
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There is no intimacy like that between two women who have chosen to be sisters.
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The ego hurts you like this: you become obsessed with the one person who does not love you. blind to the rest who do.
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I want to love, but my hair smells of war and running and running.
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Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women, kitchen of love, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes, the men, they come with keys, and sometimes the men, they come with hammers.
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