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dusttodust
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clever
She could wrap men around her finger like yarn String them along like puppets in a show Read their hearts like an open book But for what?
sobbing
She was a pretty crier. Sobbing quietly, tears pooling at the corner of her eyes; her tiny frame, more glass-like with each heave. She was the kind of girl whose weeping form could launch a thousand ships, raze empires, and enchant anyone into tracing with hungry eyes the glistening tear streaks draping her face like garlands.
monster
I used to call you monster for all your gaslighting, your yelling, your abuse, and your sick, twisted love so I guess it's only fitting that everyone calls me one now too.
hazy
your form flitted through my curtains like smoke in the mi(d)st of the morning sun, or perhaps in spite of it, how could I bottle the vapour of your being into something so defined as my embrace you faded like fog, and left my side a murk
armor
You wear your pride like armor - Rigid, immobile, stubborn Fierce to look at, terrifying to fight against. But you were never meant to carry such weight; To have your sweat pooling like tears at the base of your baggage. Lay down your defenses, soldier - you need not fight any longer.
object
Objects object objectively to objections of objective objects better as an discarded object instead of experimental subject
portal
She was danger - with garlands, he supposed. Like a whirlpool in the deep pulling you in when your oars drop to with a thunk by your feet. Or watching a car crash happen in slow motion - terrible, irresistible, and certainly the wrong decision With morbid curiosity he gingerly took her hand and left for parts unknown
craftsmanship
he crouches over his worktable; the question mark of his form posing a single question sculpting his love into the puppet before him - can non-life replace a lost life?
bunch
mom goes to the grocery store turns a corner to see bananas on sale potassium is good for you, she thinks maybe it'll cure the illness in your head so she buys a bunch