becca

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𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗

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𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗

𝐥ips of scented peach and melon on a december holiday, my baby looks at me the way i admire her when she does classes on a saturday scheduled ballet. she could always meet me on a sunglazed afternoon and the weather can clash with her lilac gossamer with her youth of wilderness.

𝗼live shrubs pressed upon old journal to record moments of unending delight. when the dancing of venus set upon her amber eyes, i knew that falling can be compared to madness but also searched for sacred warmth collapsing on her velvet thighs. our magnetic fields clashed like earthquakes longing to be felt, like thunders aching to be heard. seasonal confusion melted when her voice touched this fragile boy's heart, a pomegranate angel skilled to take my breath away like a lover she is to her own luna.

𝘃intage clothes at walmart for the aesthetics, rose gold necklace in exchange of a sempiternal kiss. patronizing sculpture on sundays gets familiar too when hope is tattooed above her tongue. she never tasted vanilla but she smelled like jasmine, the kind of aroma gradually seeping on your skin. there is certainty in galaxy eyes surrounding us, a sweet young sensation to fancy and die for. what a meaningful way to long for love.

𝗲perdument amoureux: eternity sprung from galapagos sunset vibing along her tan lines. when honesty painted rosy petals on her soft cheeks, i knew i can never look at dahlias the way i do when i was nine. to bleed for home is something i've always seeked and if ever she refuses to be called one, then she can be my sanctuary. daylight rays reflecting on the riverbank as she held my hands to talk about her dreams. her body glitters and the soul she owns is gold. what else shall complete this moment? to tell her i always get lost everytime she gazes at me. to always be the part of so called honesty. and that i have already fallen.

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idea was inspired by ENAMORAMOS on her MALAMENTE: i'd risk forever to be here right now (lowkey promoting her)

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