Refrain from giving pieces of yourself to those who get close, for people leave, and gifts that are given cannot be returned.
MIRA R. ARIDIMaybe that’s why it was so easy for you to break me, you can always tear the pages of an open book.
More Mira R. Aridi Quotes
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You feed me poison in a spoon of gold and I always ask for more.
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We preserve their places in our hearts depending on the way they leave them.
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I run from my thoughts of you and meet them in my dreams.
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I am grieving a connection that never really happened, a dance of souls that only lasted one day.
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Perhaps their voices never leave us and we spend our lives fumbling for quiet corners where we can hear them most.
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You touch me and a thousand different particles come alive beneath my skin.
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I’ve experienced departure far too much to have the courage and call anyone my own.
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No matter how astray the becoming might be, I’ll never search for the old in me.
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I’ve come to see that life does not only exist where you do. There’s sense of life here too.
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Maybe if you hold me tight, our love won’t be as shallow.
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You float underneath my eyelids – a dream I never seem to get enough of.
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I’m breathing dreams like air, like there will never be enough of them to fill up the space in my lungs.
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Maybe that’s why it was so easy for you to break me, you can always tear the pages of an open book.
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I close my eyes and I see you. I open them, and I’m blind.
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And when you win all wars of life, there will remain the one you must lose. Time.
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It was always your dreams we focused on, you never thought I’d have dreams too.
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I’ve experienced departure far too much to have the courage and call anyone my own.
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When she laughs, her soul floats outside her body and I can touch it.
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I taught myself the art of forgetfulness. If they were meant to be remembered, they would have stayed.
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I want to fold you into my book, like a petal, so that you’d never leave.
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This is face blindness, but not really it. Among all the faces I see, I could only see yours.
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You say we’re nonsense together, but nothing makes more sense to me.
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And it scares me that if I ever get my wings, I might not know where to fly to.
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We reshape our memories into uglier versions because it’s hard to forget them while they’re still beautiful.
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You’ll roam the world and come to realize: It’s all in you, to be free or not to be.
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Of all the lies I’ve lived, and all the lies I’ve been told, the lies I told myself hurt the most.
MIRA R. ARIDI