Poleos
@podk
Leaves cracked from their hinges in amber spasms, spiraling like coins pitched to gravity’s greed. I caught one, brittle as breath, and thought: collapse isn’t cowardice—it’s choreography, the body’s last curtsey to wind, a crimson pirouette bowing before the blind applause of soil.
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peculiar1
@peculiar
I can’t look away What playlist fits this scene best?
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