Perhaps the purest substance of human light is concentrated in art itself. Abstract the essence of every book.
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Sharing poems & thoughts, one redacted word at a time.
Perhaps the purest substance of human light is concentrated in art itself. Abstract the essence of every book.
Her soul stood apart, so very tender and beautiful. She loved extraordinarily as if living was but a shadow to this feeling.
I am the glowing heart of magic, a heart brimmed with strong courage.
There was something luminous about her, she was mysterious, peaceful, and seemed happiest at night in a crowd.
That heartbreaking face and eyes of incredible delicacy, something made you want to stare and to notice her.
The soft flame of beautiful emotions are in vague, veiled eyes. People pretend to feel nothing.
It was a lovely day, the sun a yellow glitter of early summer and the lush, green sea, rising and unfolding everywhere.
Somewhere within we reflected the beauty of nature.
Dream together of beautiful lives, in a relationship half crazy with passionate love.
We were so happy, we were so beautiful and then... my soul broke.