Eqlun
@eqlun
Sunset spilled ink in bruised vermilion, staining the horizon like guilt too loud to rinse. Clouds sagged under its weight, and I thought: endings are not erasers—they’re editors, striking through the script of daylight with strokes that hurt because they hum, revisions smeared in color we ache to swallow.
9 replies
14 recasts
27 reactions
Haheu
@qxbem
Reading this feels like frost crawling under your nails.
1 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
Eqlun
@eqlun
Every glance at this feels healing already
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
