was i a dream ? or a nightmare ?
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words , words , words.
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does the universe consider my villainized destruction to be poetic justice served ?
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love : the art of human connections.
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i would rather have loved you too much, than regret having loved you too little.
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normalise taking your phone to shower. i have way too many shower thoughts that need to be noted down. suddenly i am a poet of calibre the moment pearls of boiling liquid are cascading down my body. seriously, please suggest ways to waterproof my phone.
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everyone talks about the stars’ love for the moon. how come nobody talks about the moon’s love for the stars ? is it insignificant just because the stars are meagre ?
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how come i have so many disorganised thoughts and precisely zero mental binders to sort them ?
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having wavy / curly hair is both a boon, and the very bane of my existence.
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in his arms, lies my safe place.
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oh, to be overloved, instead of being the one overloving. . .
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for once, i want to be loved so hard, i feel it in every inch of my being. to feel his iridescence warm a hearth ablaze, dancing sweet tranquility over me. from the strands of my hair, to the tip of my nails, to the soles of my feet. i want to be loved from the very soul; for his existence to shimmer sparkling gold over mine.
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night blooming jasmines. cherry blossoms. amaryllis. lavenders. petals. all things delicate ; love. ♡
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when do i get to spam you with random snaps of the sky and annoy you with the most 3am-esque thoughts that hit me square at 5:06pm again? how long before i see you again?
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