The rivers of ruffles, ridges, and ruchings. Her scent, cinnamon, dams oceans, in heaven. Light, pink, pastels, in florals. Neon, in novas, drench satin, in corals. Her true material. Deltas, Andromeda. Her true texture. Bleeds vision, auroral
---ΰ¨ΰ§--- Clean ---ΰ¨ΰ§--- but cold ---ΰ¨ΰ§--- Messy ---ΰ¨ΰ§--- but warm ---ΰ¨ΰ§--- Sunkissed ---ΰ¨ΰ§--- but scorching ---ΰ¨βΉΰ§--- Flawless ---ΰ¨ΰ§--- but freezing ---ΰ¨βΰ§---
Fame is a kind of attention. A kind of courted attention. A kind of widely courted attention. Grounded in a look or a talent. Bathed in meadowed light. Arched in versatility. Immune or imprisoned to hype. And at its apex. Fame compounds fame. But in its finest sense. Fame is just a thing. Like any other thing. Source and subject to praise or scrutiny. Coveted or obtained. Like its mirror anonymity
For love so loved the world, that she gave her every begotten sun, that whosoever believeth in them, shall not perish, but have everlasting light