Me-not

“ولكن قولي لي : ماذا يستحق أن نخسره في هذه الحياة العابرة؟ تدركين ما أعني... إننا في نهاية المطاف سنموت”
― غسان كنفاني, رسائل غسان كنفاني إلى غادة السمان

“بنلف في دواير والدنيا تلف بينا
ودايماً ننتهي لمطرح ما إبتدينا
طيور الفجر تايهة في عتمة المدينة .. بتدور

مابنكتبش الرسايل مابننتظرش رد
...لا حد في يوم سمعنا ولا بنسمع حد
طيور العمر تايهة في عتمة المدينة .. بتدور

ساكنين في عالم يعشق الخطر
فيه الطيور تهرب من الشجر
وتهرب النجوم من القمر
وتهرب الوجوه من الصور

بنلف في دواير ندور ع الأمان
ونلاقينا رجعنا تاني لنفس المكان
ندور .. ندور .. ندور

نحلم ونحلم بالحياة المُفرحة
وأتاري أحلامنا بلا أجنحة
ندور ندور ندور بجناح حزين مكسور
ساعات نشوف في العتمة
وساعات نتوه في النور
ساعات عيوننا بالأسى تفرح
وساعات في ساعة الفرح ننوح

ولا حاضر ولا ماضي
تروس بتلف ع الفاضي
ولا فينا شباب زعلان
ولا فينا شباب راضي

مفيش غير إننا بندووور ..
ندووووور .. ندووووور”
― عبد الرحمن الأبنودي

“I’ll be your family now,” he says.
“I love you,” I say.
I said that once, before I went to Erudite headquarters, but he was asleep then. I don’t know why I didn’t say it when he could hear it. Maybe I was afraid to trust him with something so personal as my devotion. Or afraid that I did not know what it was to love someone. But now I think the scary thing was not saying it before it was almost too late. Not saying it before it was almost too late for me.
I am his, and he is mine, and it has been that way all along.
He stares at me. I wait with my hands clutching his arms for stability as he considers his response.
He frowns at me. “Say it again.”
“Tobias,” I say, “I love you.”
His skin is slippery with water and he smells like sweat and my shirt sticks to his arms when he slides them around me. He presses his face to my neck and kisses me right above the collarbone, kisses my cheek, kisses my lips.
“I love you, too,” he says.”
― Veronica Roth, Insurgent

“You think my first instinct is to protect you. Because you're small, or a girl, or a Stiff. But you're wrong."

He leans his face close to mine and wraps his fingers around my chin. His hand smells like metal. When was the last time he held a gun, or a knife? My skin tingles at the point of contact, like he's transmitting electricity through his skin.

"My first instinct is to push you until you break, just to see how hard I have to press." he says, his fingers squeezing at the word break. My body tenses at the edge in his voice, so I am coiled as tight as a spring, and I forget to breathe.

His dark eyes lifting to mine, he adds, "But I resist it."

"Why..." I swallow hard. "Why is that your first instinct?"

"Fear doesn't shut you down; it wakes you up. I've seen it. It's fascinating." He releases me but doesn't pull away, his hand grazing my jaw, my neck. "Sometimes I just want to see it again. Want to see you awake.”
― Veronica Roth, Divergent