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| quote: | Originally posted by Seppuku
We'll meet again.
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Stark, all stark. A certain moment ebbs. The streets these days appear to be doused in sweat.
Fervent motions yielding yet more, a toiling expose. She lived it out. Her lips only parted for three things, and she was getting monetary replacement for one of them. Her shoulders, though uneven, gave off her untimely disposition.
Out there, in the back, where the whispers dare to linger, and where every stop is partly not and feathers filtered by fingers. Docile was her enumeration, her legs made of brittle chalk. A trail of blood, a streaming tear, yet she could hardly talk.
Yet she was thirty dollars richer. Enough to sustain. And, well, it's only April now, there's plenty of time left to reach fame.
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