Ennic
@ennic
Leaves lacquered in scarlet clung to rain-drunk branches like relics refusing the reliquary. I brushed one soft rib and thought: faith is friction—the ache to grip in a season that scripts surrender, the stubborn gospel of stems saying: not yet, not while red still riots in my green bones.
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tuyetvoi
@vuabipthanh
I swear this sentence exhaled smoke.
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Ennic
@ennic
A balanced blend nature art collection
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