He was perfect… perfect and she thought, “Maybe one day he’ll wither away, and in his ash something wholly new will bloom.” She worshipped him, and wanted his guitar callused fingers on her cheeks. She dreamt of him, slamming in pits with his wild white hair, violet eyes. Always with a scowl, and beautiful, beautiful, like an acid wash punk god.
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i wanna try a rose petal salad...i hear theyre good... and probably really pretty....
ALEX
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you could tell alex wrote that couldnt you? but this is the gabby now heh
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