All my trauma grown to thorns, he overlooked it all. Perhaps they caused him to bleed in ways I can’t recall.
ALETHEIA LIOLAAll my trauma grown to thorns, he overlooked it all. Perhaps they caused him to bleed in ways I can’t recall.
More Aletheia Liola Quotes
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You only meet someone, as deeply as they’ve met themselves. So do not allow their demons to condemn your soul to hell.
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Trust assumes loyalty; and loyalty in the true sense of the word, the infinite, devoted kind of loyalty – that kind of loyalty doesn’t exist anymore.
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Our interpretations reflect our imperfections. We will always read between the lines, but we decide what we choose to find.
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My bloody hands that hold on to faith. Learned that we grow with pain and not age.
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He always preferred the way my eyes looked after they had cried. I wish he knew how fine they looked once he had said goodbye.
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Perception is the paintbrush. The reality, the canvas. You are the artist. Create purposefully.
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So what do we say to each other is the language of unspoken? The words are sweet; the space is bitter or is this just the them I’ve chosen.
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How many wounds can you convert to wisdom? How much pain to power can you permute and fathom? This is your story; rewrite how it’s written.
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The highest love. Highest power. I will let you in. Devour this anguish, I’m harboring, all to you, surrendering.
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Be aware of the judgments that you and others conjure. The words reflect the inner world; the doctrines that you sponsor.
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Why do I see in a world gone blind? I always longed to find the answers, took chances. Asked for the veil to thin. Fault? Mine. Left questioning; my eyes, blessings or curses?
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Clutching a burning match, he said “look, and she’ll explode”. Ignored the gas he poured; his match caused my implode.
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Trust is an illusion. A systematically flawed word. A total forgery of a statement. Trust assumes infallibility – without errors, mistakes, or fuck ups.
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The child within; raised voice; fast heart; flinches. Flight response, with an attitude and broken hinges. The child within; tiptoes; eggshells. Heaven; hell. Still, she finds a quiet place, safe and tranquil; dwell.
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How do we trust others when we can’t even trust ourselves?
ALETHEIA LIOLA