When others wore their bodies like they belonged in them, she was still tugging at sleeves, hiding knees, covering skin that felt too loud.
— Asra Amjad, Even the moon left me - poetry book about love
“A woman grabbing a crying child’s wrist, freezing, then letting go when she realized the child was not hers.”

““Since this is the last time we’re ever talking to each other again, you were a terrible man to fall in love with, Affan”, she inhaled the words deeply.”
