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Stills, taken through a looking glass, show that we're in love. But not even photography and film, not a single art form in the world, can capture the blue of your eyes, or that booming laugh, or the bleeding of my heart. Joy and sorrow, ****** fighting to meet air, fighting to leave permanent scars everywhere that read over and over again, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you..." These words will never be enough for a universe that's always expanding, threatening to break through skin and make you mine.
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Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 3:51 PM UTC
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Stills, taken through a looking glass, show that we're in love. But not even photography and film, not a single art form in the world, can capture the blue of your eyes, or that booming laugh, or the bleeding of my heart. Joy and sorrow, ****** fighting to meet air, fighting to leave permanent scars everywhere that read over and over again, "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you..." These words will never be enough for a universe that's always expanding, threatening to break through skin and make you mine.
thunderstorm-in-may
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Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 3:51 PM UTC
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