there is something painfully romantic about pushing a needle through fabric for hours, upon hours sewing a poppet. i know i will curse it anyways- but the thought is nice.
It’s true that I’ll never forget my first kiss. As my lips collided with pavement, And my arms gave out, I kissed the earth with all my love, With all my might. I’ll never forget the quake.
This is just comin out of my brain so I figured I’d post it
our love was- Is- Immature. But it is true. From toadstools upturned To faerie jinxes, It is true. And I know, in my spirit, That your hand was destined to meet mine. One way or another.
I think I’ve found a good one. I don’t want to jinx it. But I hope I’ve found a good one. He is so lovely