Elysian
- Reads 52
- Votes 4
- Parts 6
Perfectionism is the Garden of Eden growing reignless inside your mind- stems slowly seeping through the cracks of your skull until your lungs become scented with them, until your eyes are obscurred by rose thorns, until your voice and bones and fingertips are laced with vines.
An obsession, perhaps.
A hunger.
∆
[Cross-published from my ao3.]
All Rights Reserved
#10
bic
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