glimmer glimmer, glassmaker
transforming rough grains into shards of smooth shiny fragility
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O’ Love: Sonnet 101:
For you, each and every have lost their way, You are the reason beds are left unmade,
sweet lou
has it been your dream to play this way, or to play on some grand old stage?
and my heart aches.
Yesterday, my heart broke for you.
They’ve left.
they’ve slipped away quietly. Peacefully. As if for the last time.