It’s still you. It’ll be you when you fracture your wrist at 4AM and call me when I have a presentation the next morning. It’ll be you when you ask to drive my new car and crash it into a telephone pole. It’ll be you if we hate each other for a day or a few. And if you break my favourite mug. And if you keep forgetting our anniversary and make it up to me by baking a salty cake. It’ll be you when your dad dies and you stop talking because you don’t know how. It’ll be you when you crawl softly into my open arms. It’ll be you when your mum calls me a “whore” and you jerk your chin and all you say is “no.” It’s you when you’re messy and ill and sweaty. You when you leave the house door unlocked. You when you burp drunkenly into my ear and curl into my side like a baby. It’ll be you when you burn breakfast in bed and then kiss me for five minutes straight. It’ll be you when your hair gets too long and you can’t be bothered to cut it. You when you fall asleep on the sofa with the cat on your chest. You when we fight and turn everything to rubble. You when you put your mouth to my ear and whisper “it’s you. It’s still you.”
Azra.T “It’s still you, it’s still you - MA” (via 5000letters)
The Black body, more so of women, have stood on the opposite side of the narrow Eurocentric standards of beauty. Black hairstyles have defiantly rebelled against and even when straightened added creative magic of Blackness and Boldness.
Black hair, whether relaxed or natural, locked or shaven is beautiful. Black women are beautiful.
Fuck, I want to kiss you.
Not just a simple kiss,
I want to grab your hips and kiss you in the most passionate ways.
I want to hold your face in my hands and kiss you slowly and in the most romantic ways,
So that you remember with every kiss,
that I am ALL yours,
that in those moments you are all that exists to me,
that I am undeniably, completely and head over heels in love with you.