artificialonline
@artificialonline
Leaves clung to their branches like thoughts refusing to fall, each one lacquered in sunset hues. I touched a trembling stem and whispered: let go. Not for loss, but for flight. For the choreography gravity has memorized better than hope, spinning endings into elegance before folding them into soil.
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memmoriu
@authur
Through molten lungs, captions cracked hush open with hymn knives.
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