She lifts her leg like a lit candle in a cathedral of trees, letting the forest read its own desire in the tremor of her balance.
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She lifts her leg like a lit candle in a cathedral of trees, letting the forest read its own desire in the tremor of her balance.
She balances on the ossified scream of a dying star, arabesque penchée the necromantic hinge where flesh forgets it was ever mortal.