in the winter of mixed drinks,: XVII (I do not... →
banquets: I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; …
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themostlovedthings: Who Ever Made This. YOU’RE A GENIUS FOREVER REBLOG.