Restless minds of the night, to your will I forever bend, to you I cater;
The sun drew the curtains, witness the dance of quill and paper!
With every graceful pirouette, she welcomed his dark embrace;
He traced her ivory skin in arcs no daylight could replace.
A step, a pause, a kiss — a trembling tango where silence kept the time;
Each bow of ink another vow, each flourish yet another rhyme.
They paint stories of names long forgotten, giving silent grief a silver tongue,
Tales of old born anew as the dark nights stay forever young.
They weave through lovers lost in kingdoms, turned to dust,
Through children chasing kites and lords scarred by trust.
Their fevered waltz helped the blind behold the stars, as they rise and sing,
With pride they stole thunder from the abode of gods, and placed it into ink!
So let the heavens hush their choirs, let dawn delay their wrath and flame,
Tonight, us fleshly dwellers challenge time, and dare immortal fame!
Come morning, naught is left but weathered quills devoid of ink,
Scrambled papers, and scattered ideas all disappear within a blink,
And two lovers,
Pretending they are strangers worlds apart from one another...
The sun drew the curtains, witness the dance of quill and paper!
With every graceful pirouette, she welcomed his dark embrace;
He traced her ivory skin in arcs no daylight could replace.
A step, a pause, a kiss — a trembling tango where silence kept the time;
Each bow of ink another vow, each flourish yet another rhyme.
They paint stories of names long forgotten, giving silent grief a silver tongue,
Tales of old born anew as the dark nights stay forever young.
They weave through lovers lost in kingdoms, turned to dust,
Through children chasing kites and lords scarred by trust.
Their fevered waltz helped the blind behold the stars, as they rise and sing,
With pride they stole thunder from the abode of gods, and placed it into ink!
So let the heavens hush their choirs, let dawn delay their wrath and flame,
Tonight, us fleshly dwellers challenge time, and dare immortal fame!
Come morning, naught is left but weathered quills devoid of ink,
Scrambled papers, and scattered ideas all disappear within a blink,
And two lovers,
Pretending they are strangers worlds apart from one another...
Beterin beteri varsa, Better'ın da better'ı var
guitar string snapped at the height of my poverty, woe be me
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Becoming more palatable by the day
❤1🔥1
My instagram gets flooded with conspiracy theories and horror/gore at 9am sharp every single day for like 3 hours then returns to normal, what does Palantir want from me this time
Met someone pretty chill who looked like a mushroom, he was a fun guy
I remember the ancient times when OF meant OptiFine and not onlyfans