Tag: bedsheets
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alone together
Sorrow’s fingertips shush the last warm light and the twilight shines pale again. the breathing next to me doesn’t cease. though, i guess mine doesn’t either. i suppose that’s what we call a win.
Sorrow’s fingertips shush the last warm light and the twilight shines pale again. the breathing next to me doesn’t cease. though, i guess mine doesn’t either. i suppose that’s what we call a win.