To Him.
i hated that i was always the poet and never the poem.
but whenever i hear your name from across the room,
my gut wrenches with emotions I've never known.
i tell myself you don't feel that way, but oh that look in your eyes..
tired of being the poet, but you make my heart fill with melodies, imprinting
like ink on paper, your gaze on me,
my heart, oh painted with a color redder than art.
oh dear dear lord, if this is love, then in it im lost all apart.
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brennan almost falling out his chair pretending to be a rat showing its asshole to lou is true friendship right there
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IVAN'S A FUCKING FUCKER FOR NOT EVEN CHOKING TILL PROPERLY HE WAS GENTLY HOLDING HIM IN PLACE
(it kills me because Till probably thought ivan was gonna give him one last out or something hence why he closed his eyes in what i feel like is acceptance)
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just ! one !! headlock !! comin !! right !! up !!!!..(:/@<]#]*.?,'x??'suahsoajfsjfs
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gasping for breath always hits different. chest heaving from panic or strain, coughing and struggling to draw in the air they so desperately need, swallowing and forcing words between wheezes that leave them dizzy and swaying but they can't afford to pass out yet? it could be from pain, fever, sweating, exhaustion, broken ribs, near drowning? it's a whole ass delicacy
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gnawing and gnashing the scene between adaine and aelwyn they're perfect they're everything i want 5 hours of just them talking please please please
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