The world looks so bleak from where I stand. She’s blurred and shifted into something the galaxies are probably shuddering from. The Moon hails her because she has to, and the rest of the universe stands by to watch, hands folded behind their backs, lips curled back wondering how we managed to destroy each other so very well.
The Piano is Not Firewood Yet
I am The Star Thief. My pockets are illuminated by their light.Find me in dark corners: kissing cats and bleeding prose.
"How about a kiss, saumensch?"
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