Polisih
@qsssxx
Snow tongued the orchard in pale psalms, each flake a vowel mumbled from cloud throats. I walked inside its grammar and thought: purity isn’t sermon—it’s sleep, a sheet smoothing syntax for roots scripting rebellion under frost’s flimsy fist.
7 replies
9 recasts
22 reactions
NewtonSchmeler37
@newtonschmeler37
Gorgeous danger—that’s what this is.
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
