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#palmreading
Horses drum the earth, hooves strike fire, hooves strike dust. Wheels creak, canvas snaps, wind whispers secrets we must trust. Hands hover—tea leaves spin, crystals catch the sun, cards flip, palms reveal what the world cannot hold. Blood hums hidden roads, brotherhood shadows, secret codes, magic flows in veins, fire alive in every stride. I am the caravan’s echo, smoke, cards, palms, wind, dust. Child of shadowed paths, keeper of secrets, blood of magic, and in this blood, I am whole. I am free.
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Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 5:48 AM UTC
Chant of the Caravan
It’s not for you— but to remind me how I see. not the one who doesn’t dare— to call it out. fortune to tell, past and present— intervene at ten. believe— I’d be not just precise, but honest. and you know— it’s shining through the cracks. The light— won’t just stop like a clock, left on the wall, hanging— in stillness. tickless— ask why? choose to stay, watch it twice, knowing right— _so why—_ the illusion makes it count. _It’s just reckless—_ I know, but love freckles.
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Oct 26, 2025
Oct 26, 2025 at 1:41 PM UTC
In time.
"sweet agony of 'spoken for' scored in the palm of your hands; mount of mercury harbingers to traces of us." ||shoo.shu||
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Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 10:45 AM UTC
Fortune Teller
I love him. I will until the end of time. I feel his hand in mine.... His fingers like ghostly kisses against my palm. He read it once. He told me I would have three children, all with my eyes. Then he whispered under his breath that they wouldn't be his. I told him they would be, but he only hummed in disagreement. He stayed silent about it for years. Yesterday, he held my hand just like he is right now. His fingers lingered on the calloused skin for a moment. He looked surprised, as if he recognized the feeling. I told him I loved him. I said it all of the time and I knew he felt the same, but this time he didn't say it back. He walked away. I woke up this morning to three missed calls: one from his mother, one from the hospital, and one from our mutual best friend. I recognized what those three calls meant. I climbed out of bed and walked to the balcony outside of my three story apartment. I was about to let my tears escape when I felt his hand in mine. I suddenly realized why those three children would never be his. His fingers were ghostly as he traced the lines of my palm.
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Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
Ghostly