Fever Dreams

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and other doors to truth

I just want you to mean something to yourself.

Of a love that has no time.
I love you, dear.

the beauty in which I find myself every day is the very same that keeps the shy cowering. It’s the same that gives doubt to the gorgeous. It’s the light that reached across and through and over and pulled out my heart from the stones beneath which I had hidden it. The same that examined it, turned the once forgotten organ over, and claimed it for its own. Never will anything be so much of everything, but hurt nothing.