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I like the smell of earth, the touch of waves, the taste of berries,  the sight of trees, the sound of laughter, and the feeling of being fully alive

i am a hoarder, not of things but of memories and stories.
i wrap every memory that i have around me like a blanket.
i intertwine stories i have been told around my rib cage.
i paint every stolen moment on the back of my hands so i can learn to never forget them. i let the words flow through my bloodstream until i am nothing but a collection of moments, a collection of stories, a collection of lives that i have not yet lived.

My lips are the gun.
My smile is the trigger.
My kisses are the bullets.
Label me a killer.

 

if you looked in the corners, you'd find her there, hidden by darkness and the curls in her hair, her nose in a book with her head in the clouds, hiding her feelings away from the crowds. if you sat by her side while the world passed you by, she'd tell you the story behind the pain in her eyes. if you gave her five minutes, you'd see how her smile makes even the bad things in life seem worthwhile. but you don't look in the corners, you don't even glance. so she sits there still, waiting to be given a chance

 

she was the most beautiful, complicated thing i'd ever seen. a tangled mess

of silky string and i wanted of life was to sit down cross-legged and untie her knots.

STRONG and

INDEPENDENT

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