fatma

“Even poetry, which breaks language into meaning - poetry ossifies, in time, the way trees do. What’s supple, whipping, soft and fresh grows hard, grows armor. If I could touch you, put my finger into your temple and sink you into me the way Garden does - perhaps then. But I would never.”
― Amal El-Mohtar, This Is How You Lose the Time War

“I didn't tell him, I never told him. Not in a way that he believed. Not in a way that he could let in and hold on to. Everything he was to me. That he was everything.
Simon, Simon . . .
You were the sun, and I was crashing into you.
I'd wake up every morning and tell myself . . .
I'd tell myself . . .
"You live in fear! In denial!"
Simon is on the ground. His wing is bent the wrong way. His blood is red and abundant. It smells like brown butter. His hair is a mess, his face is in the sand. He doesn't know how much I love him. He's never really heard it.
I'd wake up every morning and tell myself . . .
"Simon . . . love . . . get up. We still have to save Agatha."
Simon is on the ground.
This will end in flames.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Wayward Son

“Simon Snow, it hurts to look at you when you’re this happy.
And it hurts to look at you when you’re
depressed.
There’s no safe time for me to see you, nothing about you that doesn’t tear my heart from my chest and leave it breakable outside my body.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Wayward Son

“I want to be a body for you. I want to chase you, find you, I want to be eluded and teased and adored; I want to be defeated and victorious—I want you to cut me, sharpen me. I want to drink tea beside you in ten years or a thousand. Flowers grow far away on a planet they’ll call Cephalus, and these flowers bloom once a century, when the living star and its black-hole binary enter conjunction.I want to fix you a bouquet of them, gathered across eight hundred thousand years, so you can draw our whole engagement in a single breath, all the ages we’ve shaped together.”
― Amal El-Mohtar, This Is How You Lose the Time War