❛ I can feel a better version of me somewhere in there - hidden behind a liver or attached to a bit of spleen. But the meanness usually wins out. ❜
DAINTY FINGERS DRAG WEARY paths across vaguely dust - touched a veil spread nonchalantly within the drawer. naphthalene salts the brim of her nostrils, blazes its way up to the green of her gaze, cotton and ash and antiquity — simmering ache. swan of her neck crooks towards the call of her voice with glassy ataraxia, unorthodox, arousing ailment, painting come alive. her hand lifts, and the coiling dust with it, alike her head she turns, as slow, nebulous, she stills dreamlike within the midst of the room. ❛ in your case meanness needs to win out. ❜ velvet bloom, a smile, or the lingering shadow of it. ❛ who in your life has earned your goodness ? ❜
dark places. accepting. @feithaven.