And you, like a month of star, like a fixed kiss, like a structure of wing, or the beginning of autumn, girl, my advocate, my amorous one, light makes its bed beneath your big eyelids, golden as oxen, and the round dove often makes her white nests in you.
Made of wave in ingots and white pincers, your furious apple health stretches without limit, the trembling cask in which your stomach listens, your hands daughters of wheat and sky.
when i was little my mom played chet baker while i told her stories that she’d write down for me. i have dozens of these little books lying around, most of which are about the moon or moving to france.
Viria! Just saw one of your old HP memes on deviantart and... you said you hated slash. You used to hate boy x boy! What do you think you past self would say if she saw your current (amazing) art? :3
the wild young me strikes again god
If I’m honest, I would 99% likely get into a fight with my previous self, seriously. I don’t think my past self would care enough to say anything, but I would say a lot to that me imao. I think the past me would just be quite uncomfortable with some things.
At least it makes me believe I’m a better more mature human being now ;_;