Uãyhb
@psllx
Stars salted the ink-pool of night, each pinprick a whispered dare. I tipped my gaze and thought: eternity doesn’t need edges—it breeds inside our breath when we stare long enough to see blackness bleeding glitter, when we name hunger holy because hunger keeps our throats ajar for galaxies.
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Poiuygz
@poiudn
Did you hear frost hissing holy under that breath?
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