She’ll find peace in the solitude, in the depths of the well. The darkness alludes to how far she fell. And perhaps, the view is better from way down afar, It keeps the water still In her reservoir.
ALETHEIA LIOLAThe only way I’ll ever choose to taste sweet love again, Is if he tells me, he loves my mind, and the way I use my pen.
More Aletheia Liola Quotes
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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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A part of me died on the battlefield and a part of me was born. Vulnerability shed like peeling skin. Trust from my core was torn. I was caught between a disassembled heart and a young and fearful mind. I made peace with these pieces as I fell apart with the courage that I made mine.
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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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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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The only way I’ll ever choose to taste sweet love again, Is if he tells me, he loves my mind, and the way I use my pen.
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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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I think I may be in way over my head. I’ll learn how to breathe underwater instead.
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He dirtied my name with his dark and muddy lies. The earth he left grew flowers for the butterflies & now I thrive.
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On my worst days, I give the devil hell. On my best day, I hold a light for God to dwell.
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I think we all long for someone we can be disgustingly honest with, and for them to love us anyway, and stay.
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We shined a light through our flaws to our internalistic plea. Emphasized the healing that shall set our lost souls free. We were a brief reflection of what we should not be.
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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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Wound to wisdom, pain to power. A seed of grief, now time to flower.
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Love is easier to carry than hate. So I untangle from my past and realize my fate. Transcend the pain to forgiveness, to nurture my scars. We are what we witness, and we are also stars.
ALETHEIA LIOLA