avēre

we have not touched the stars

nor are we forgiven

#userchandler


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she walked with darkness dripping

                                           off her shoulder. i’ve seen

                      ghosts brighter than her soul.

her heart, just like a star — dead

                                           and dazzling — was hanging upon

                      the midnight of my soul.

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i still live up to the 'smaller means angrier' stereotype.

at any point i will be thinking of richard's sikens works or virginia woolf.

networks
ADMIN:

MEMBER:
quiet;
tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.