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Quote by Maimoona Abidi

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A Shelf of Things I Never Said

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Maimoona Abidi

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“There is a version of me on a bench that doesn’t exist, beside someone who never arrived, hands folded like questions without answers. We do not speak. Still, the silence grows roots between us. The kind that twist around ankles, that make it hard to stand and leave. I do not know their name, only that I’ve mourned them like I mourn cities I’ve never seen with a longing that makes no sense and still doesn’t stop. Somewhere in the unlived life, we are laughing. Here, I just keep glancing sideways at the absence that fits too well into the shape of a stranger.”

“I miss her the girl who wore too much hope and not enough armour. Who danced barefoot on sharp things because she believed pain was proof of living. I see her in old photos, smiling like she didn’t know what was coming. 'Sometimes I wish I could go back. Sometimes I’m glad I can’t.' Some versions of you have to die so you can breathe.”

“There’s still sand in my shoes from august. the kind that clings, stubborn and golden like you did. Love was loud then. It dripped down our backs like sweat, sweet and impossible to hold. We kissed like we were trying to memorize the shape of goodbye before it even arrived. And still I’d follow the hum of locusts, the scent of sun-warmed citrus, every blistered street and blooming ache if it meant one more evening where your name didn’t taste like leaving.”