Today marKs Eight
Forgive me if I stutter Butterflies perhaps this time or do you cause my heart to flutter Where must we draw the line? For I am the one who keeps Mister death stashed in his pocket and under the tyrannous stars I sleep With you safe in my locket Because like you I was once broken Like you cradled by the furnace heavy emotions rendered verboten The result of such sternness You and I both know; however There’s something magical in falling A hand that guides our endeavors A heart that adheres to your calling As I am forever yours in time When you cross the sacred line Vore Space :// I Hope that EAst of eden theRe are beasTs WHitering tO death.
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