Be both soft and wild. Just like the moon. Or the storm. Or the sea.
No pensador.ai desde
Pensador.com | Nota de autoria: Atribuição reproduzida do artigo do Pensador.com, sem verificação independente.
Abrir fonte original (abre em nova aba)If a year was tucked inside of a clock, then autumn would be the magic hour.
Soulmates aren’t the ones who make you happiest, no. They’re instead the ones who make you feel the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pangs, captivation, and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you…
Soulmates aren’t the ones who make you happiest, no. They’re instead the ones who make you feel the most. Burning edges and scars and stars. Old pangs, captivation, and beauty. Strain and shadows and worry and yearning. Sweetness and madness and dreamlike surrender. They hurl you into the abyss. They taste like hope.