Sanober Khan Quotes

a single poemthe thing that can keep melight on my feet, when my soul isheavy with sorrow.

If I began to drawmyself away from youwe’d still be liketwo mixed colors of paintimpossible to separate.

May our twilights mix togetherlike breath and breathlessness.

We hold on to poetry because it lights a fire in our soul and keeps our bodies warm.

A single poem, alonecan turn tidesscatter galaxiesand burst forth with riversfrom paradise.

Watch, how the sunslowly risesfrom behind my earnew lines, new countriesspring up in my palmsmy rough hairbecome swaying silkand all the leavesin my bodybecome lusher than fruits.

An animal in pain is the saddest thing on Earth.

And stay, my dearstay...forever, as my quiet song, in my lilac dawn.

leave me some musicthat’s chocolate for the heart.

I realizedJune had never beenjust a monthmusic...never just a trembleon my lipswarmth was nevermerely a blanket.

I breathe in...the silenceof my own heartaching with tendernesswith memories..Of home.

I wish to stay drenchedforeverin those rain-blue eyesin those...soul-reaching crystalsnot moving a musclenor breathingjustsavoringthis turquoise acheagainst my heart.

Every heart must have its privatebestseller book.

this heart yearns...for the salt of unsmelt airunswept thunderstorms...unknown adventures.

I am filled time and againwith a heart-aching wonder when I thinkof the fireand frost of memoriesof the everlastingnessof lovethe solace of familyand the power of prayer.

kisses explode when... someone believes in me when my heart cries out a song of thanks to yours.

When I write...I am in the fond armsof a childhood friendupon whose colorful heart I can hang the charcoal drawingsof my woes.

my dear, I have nothing to say.my heart burns like the evening sky.

Hands. Cheeks. Eyes. Lips.Neck. Ears.Thighs.Heart. Soul.Ahh!the things I get tosavor you with.

my dear, we are all made of water. it's okay to rage. sometimes it's okay to rest. to recede.

you are ever the only onei want to giveall the peachesin my heart tothe only one by whomi want them bruised.

my motheris pure radiance. she is the suni can touchand kissand holdwithout getting burnt.

we always knewthat good times camewith termination contractseven if we weren't quite readyto sign it.

may my touchalways...be tenderas i would strokemother's cheekswhen she cried.

May youalways haveopenbreezy spacesin your mind.

The world is thinningand the earth...it's still spinningmy world is thinningand it’s all because of one person I’m missing.

believe me when i say this.when you lovesomeone.you can travel the worldin their laugh.

Turn your fears into excitement.Your anxieties into enthusiasm. Your passion into energy.

all the wordsall the poems know my warm, soft spots.

how is it thathe's alwaysin my thoughts. even when i am not thinking.

i am eithera stormor a drought.in-betweenshave neverbeen my thing.

all my lifei have looked for poemsto elope with.

i am infinitely yearningbrimmingand overflowingin wordsi discoverit’s another wayfor meto be in tears.

kisses... areand always will be the only language that I will have ever truly known.

how can i everbreathe normally againafter having been cradledby the kind of sorrowso silent, that it nourishesafter having been sweptby the kind of joyso absolute, that it wounds.

What you are trying to let go of...is already gone.

I write because there are things in me that cannot die.

poetry. i am not writing it.(make way for me please)it is my skin. dripping with light.

Your words... I hold them deeplike ancient skinshold wrinkles.

everything that is scatteredcomes together in wordseverything that is lostcomes back in poetry.

in the endit is wordspoetry. sunsetssomeone’s deep blue silk voice.mountain scents.someone’s smile.eyes. that we haveno defenses against.

How strange and ironic it is- all the words i long to sayare lost in words.

A single poemis worth a hundredcozy winter nightskind wordsand healed wounds.

how these words, wait to diein the arms of all the poetry..yet to be written.

Poetry keeps mein a highly drunken stateof divinity.

sometimes i wake upin the middleof the nightand findpoetry splatteredall over my bed.

i am alwaysstalking you, my dear. with my thoughtsmy words.my breath.

Poems are invisible flowers on my skin.

for we all have our own twilights and mistsand abyssesto return to.

some words bring warmthjust bybeing next to each other.