The moon is in a holding cell, grasped between the bones of his failing ribcage.
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Grace Curley
0

What do you want?

By Grace Curley

The pair’s beauty reflected in the singing sea itself, entrancing the moon and the constellations. If only the mind was as beautiful as the body.

By Grace Curley

There was something beautiful about his scars, something lovely about his fallibility.

By Grace Curley
bool(false) Error: (null) [0] (severity 0) [(null)]