You taste like the last drop of whiskeyat 3 amafter a lousy daylike the first gulp of coffee on a Monday sipped behind a deskhot and bitterlike the burning at the back of the throatafter the first cigaretteYou taste, boy oh boy, like my next mistake.

Relationships are like walls painted off-white and every time you’ll hurt me, it will be like resting dirty shoes on them, like bashing holes in the walls, one after the other. And then there will come a day, where the walls will be filled with so many holes, that there wouldn’t be any place left for you to place the tiniest kiss. Only then will I walk away for good.

I still smell your absence on my skin. It smells of insomnia and rusted key locks...

I watched you storm towards the restaurant door. It was a chilly December morning and the birds sitting on the high wires in the neighborhood refused to fly any longer.

رأسي على صدرك.لا تفعل شيئاً يُذكر.لا تفعل أيّ شيء.سأقبّلك كثيراً إلى أن يستيقظ الكون.

I want to be the thought that takes your mind off the road and your hand off the steering wheel.

There was warmth in his large piercing brown eyes. The kind of warmth that tucks a child into bed. The same kind of warmth that dries your wet hair on a rainy December afternoon.

Perhaps your notion of relationships is different than mine.You want something that would be a long term safe bet. I don't believe in that. I don't believe in eternity or safe bets. I believe in the unavoidable now and that the unavoidable now in the condition that it is pure with the best intention is eternity in itself.I want to love you and to feel your love as much as this is possible, as far as this takes us, and I hope it will take us far.

-Do you want me to leave?-Yes-Do you want me to stay?-Yes-Do you love me?-Yes-Do you want me?-No-Then leave me-I can't-Then stay with me-I can't, I can't, I can't*Equation of a fucked up relationship