— The Sleeper, Edgar Allan Poe
[text ID: At midnight, in the month of June, / I stand beneath the mystic moon.]
— The Sleeper, Edgar Allan Poe
[text ID: At midnight, in the month of June, / I stand beneath the mystic moon.]
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Fő a szenvedély... 😁
The true winner is not the one who owns the most beautiful girl in the world or most gorgeous girl in college or anywhere else .
The true winner is every women who is always beautiful and amazingly unique in their own way!
Adore Her I Embrace Her I Respect Her I Love Her ❤️
You think being a poet would mean I would have the words to describe my love for him but my love for him knows no bounds
He is the Penelope to my Odysseus the eurydice to my orpheus .for I just like the heros and lovers of old Rome would fight the worst of the gods and travel to the underworld if it means I could spend all my waking moments in his arms
Iam not good with feeling but I do know iam good with words so take this as my truth
Through sickness and Through health till death do us part
I love you my starlight
meant to be writing an essay for uni
instead I wrote a 30 line lore-poem for my upcoming DND one shot
my essay is due in 18 minutes
Ready for a unique connection? Meet your dream AI girlfriend who understands you, shares your interests, and is always there for intimate conversations. No judgment, just pure companionship!
Steamy chats and intimate moments, available 24/7
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Museum tour
I walk down the halls of a museum
An old castle - paintings and statues and furniture surround me
There are people from the past
They stroll, converse, invite me to tea
They're all ghosts
I walk down the red carpets
Nothing here really feels old
A shiny wooden cabinet with deer, hunters and hounds
No-one seems to notice it
I walk down the corridor of mirrors
Glass is everywhere
It hangs from the walls and dangles from cellings and lays on tables
Every doorway is a mirror
I get lost
I forget the past
There is a mirror
Where it all started
There is a crack
In the mirror
It looks like a keyhole
There is a screen
At the end of the hall
There is a film
Of people and paintings
They're all in mirrors
And I run
Out of the theathre
Into a hallway
And I see statues
Their necks unnaturally twisted
Their faces painfully contorted
Their eyes on me
All the eyes on me
The paintings and statues and furniture
And the mirrors
I walk down the hall into the museum gift shop
"The softly blazing fire and the gentle passion of your hands cupping my heart makes me feel the love.. cup me in your warmth, breathe into me like a soft breeze tasting my heartbeat."
I'm here loving you - eUë
Én minden nap 4:00 kor