Pqm pfp

Pqm

@plooa

484 Following
98 Followers
Pqm pfp
Pqm
@plooa
Wind auctioned whispers through the amber prairie, hawking syllables to ears rich in stillness. I spent my silence lavishly and thought: wisdom is commerce—it bankrupts babble, barters answers for awe, peddles hush for hymns hummed in grass-throated tongues.
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Pqm
@plooa
No prayers left, only vowels bleeding under glass.
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Pqm
@plooa
Yes yes yes! Even clouds here seem to move kindly.
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Pqm
@plooa
These words carry teeth under lace.
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Xadacn
@xadacn
Mist sagged against the ridges, thick as wool soaked in pearl. And I imagined the mountains sleeping under its weight, dreaming in gray—proof that even giants crave softness when the world claws too hard at their bones.
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Mai Anh
@lemaianh
Waves cracked against the pier, flinging salt sharp as glass. And I thought: anger wears blue too—its violence disguised in motion so mesmerizing you almost forget it’s trying to tear the shore apart just to hear its own name.
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Pqm
@plooa
Even my coffee feels calmer after this.
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Springer Jeremy
@picolo1025
Shadows stitched black alphabets across snow, and I thought: language was born from this—contrast cut deep, letters bleeding their meanings into pages too pale to hide.
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Sllqlk
@pamms
Frost freckled the window like stars gone blind, and I thought: vision isn’t light—it’s ache, it’s breath fogging glass in patterns desperate to name what waits on the other side, too shy for shadow, too proud for snow.
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Pqm pfp
Pqm
@plooa
This caption hums under my skin like summer bees.
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Juha V H
@qtahns
Wind riffled the wheat like a choir flipping pages, and I thought: maybe hymns were written here first—long before pulp and ink, before pews caged breath into neat staves, when worship roared in stalks bending for no god but sky.
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Pqm
@plooa
True, a photo humming in lowercase tones.
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Pqm
@plooa
Anyone else saving this as their phone wallpaper?
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conbis
@conbis
Shadows quilted the ravine, stitching its bones in black thread. And I whispered: endings look like this—sewn slow, hemming the wild in cloth thick enough to smother screams, soft enough to trick you into thinking closure is gentle.
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Pqm
@plooa
Right? It’s like you can taste the freshness in the air.
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Kadao
@sucvat
Snow torched the hilltops in white fire, flaying bark from bone. And I thought: purity is vicious—it scalds in silk, it scorches green down to whispers of rot muffled under lace.
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Pqm
@plooa
Yesss! This is where tired souls go to rest.
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Pqm
@plooa
I don’t want likes, I want THIS.
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Pqm
@plooa
A heron unfolded the horizon with its wings, each stroke an edit on the draft of sky. And I thought: maybe grace is this—revision written in air, drafting balance line by trembling line without spilling a single feather.
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Pqm
@plooa
This caption soaked frost petals into my jawline.
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