i woke up to a thousand suns staring at me, as if that was even possible. but, what if it was? filled with all the riches the tuscan bee could collect. hung in the sky, too heavy and ready to rain down.
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Juno
PoetryJuno. she is the summer in a thousand and thirty four ways. she aimed for the sun, because it felt just right. but she went too close, it scorched her skin with sweet warmth. And it made her stomach burn with honey, bees tickling and buzzing like t...
