#Poems and Wine
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bigfatbreak · 1 year ago
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Wait a minute…papa Tom doesn’t seem too hostile towards Nathalie. Or at least she doesn’t seem nervous/blackmailed. Does Tom not know her past allegiances or…is there an alliance in play?
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Viceroy employs many in his arsenal, and as far as Nathalie is concerned, Tom is a coworker. :)
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elizabugz · 9 months ago
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Little Red Riding Wolf - Jason Schneiderman / x / Black Iris - Leah Raeder / Gleinpir - Walton Ford / x / 940 Main Street - Erin Moran / Doctor Who s1e13 / Ghismomda With The Heart Of Guiscardo - Bernardino Mei / Friends Forever - Wayne McKenzie / The Beast - Frank Bidart
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chloelovesu · 6 months ago
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coffeeacademia · 6 months ago
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i want to make life so achingly lovely that you could never bear to leave it
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rockonfreakybro69 · 1 month ago
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All I wanted was for somebody to love me. To me they were, are, everything. I still look at them like they hung the sun in the sky. Though now my glasses are a bit less rise tinted. It’s hard when I know now that they were never supposed to be mine and me theirs, but I still want them desperately. I think they called me pretty five times maximum while we were dating, kissed me less. I wanted I wanted work song, from eden, linger by the cranberries or anyone else but you by the moldy peaches. I ended up with something closer to cherry wine.
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archrries · 3 months ago
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In case no one has told you,
your transness is fucking beautiful.
You are as divine as a flower blooming from simple leaves into petals that bring the wonderful scent of spring.
You are as incredible as a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, bright coloured wings that shine in the sun. Fully you. Or perhaps into a moth, with fluffy features that look so soft to the touch. Great big patterns that look like eyes staring into the night sky.
You are as loved as a toy that has been worn down over years and years of play and laughter, and bumps and bruises, and tears of both happiness and hurt. You have been stitched and patched and restuffed. But you are still you. You look a little different, but what is life sitting on a shelf, never knowing what you could be? What you're made to be?
You are not changed. You are transformed. You have been you and will always be you, and the world has always known the beauty of trans people.
For what is being alive if not to live?
You were made to be loved. You were made to transform. Do not deny yourself the same growth you share with the earth, for you are a part of her.
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marynia-here · 5 months ago
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˚❆.
And now I’m older, How come I feel colder, I don’t wanna age like wine, I just wanna feel alive.
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trickstersaint · 11 months ago
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a voice in your head says maybe you should pray the rosary // january 20 2024
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randomgirl005 · 11 months ago
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Some photos I took this winter
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marydarkblacknoir · 5 months ago
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One day you discover you are alive. Explosion! Concussion! Illumination! Delight You laugh, you dance around, you shout. But, not long after, the sun goes out. Snow falls, but no one sees it, on an August noon.
Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine
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lena-oleanderson · 8 months ago
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was going to wait to post this until i edited it more but i have poor impulse control when i'm sober
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crazystonergirl · 1 year ago
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“Some people turn sad awfully young. No special reason, it seems, but they seems almost born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I’m one of them.”
Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine
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asterlune · 3 months ago
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the weight of quiet evenings — aster lune
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foxounderscorecube · 4 months ago
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just-qonika · 3 months ago
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hear me out
chappell roan x ddlc 👀
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poetess-trobadour · 3 months ago
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I'm a poet,
She's an artist,
We are a funny mix.
I write our jolly ventures with my lips,
She draws them on my skin with her fingertips,
And when I wake, it still exists,
Awhile, in quiet morning mist.
I'm a poet,
She's an artist,
A tale that's bittersweet.
I smudge with ink soft linen sheets,
With paints, she smears her crown of wheat,
And when she laughs, it all imprints,
Like spots of sun, behind my eyelids.
I'm a poet,
She's an artist.
Oh, what a messy pair.
I'm so in love, it's unpoetic.
She draws the line, she's unaware.
And when we're together, people stare;
Call me a fool or straight pathetic,
But world's in love with our aesthetic, too.
Poet & artist, November 2023
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