ii.

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" a tale old as time,
young love don't last for life




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in denial. denying the fact, the truth, which had presented itself in the form of thorns among roses, scratching the very arms within which she held them, the blood drawing out in intricate threads, forming a web. a web of lies, lured in by the spider, she, the fly, had very little chance of escapism. 

now every time her glance fell on her oh-so pretty orbs, the marble had cracks, the stone was now shards. in them, her reflection, a taunt, of her naivety. the unfurling tides of the sea in her lovers eyes sang an anthem of snide, derision and utter mockery.

something along the lines of her fly getting flayed by the spiders sweet words, the arachnid thought it would love the winged beauty, but it should've known better. the fly couldn't fly out of this cage. it was a visibly unreal, and a pointless fact.

the sweet liar, who went by the alias 'robin buckley' was in possession of her soul, which clung onto her poison-laced words, her heart, which bled on the shards of her lover's eyes, her mind, which went utterly insane, craving for the collision of their lips every time cassiterite met benitoite.




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and now I know, now I know
it's time to go, it's time to go"




𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒎𝒚, robin buckleyWhere stories live. Discover now