Pottery Barn

Has very few pots

And no barns

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For you. Miss Maybelline. I will write ten thousand more. I will walk them off the page. I will park the Saturn solstice. On your eyes’ noetic shore. I will plant the Torres Blancas. In your heart’s- Sophian floor. And I will sing the sadness. I will ignite its chorus. Without a second thought. Without a first care. I will sail it. To the soft imperfect Andromedan core. And I will roll it. Through love’s enmiracle celine restore. Without a single regret. Without an ounce of respect

Because you ~ Ms. Born with it ~ deserve the universe κ§βˆ™κ§‚ of levities’, hummingbird auror