February 2012
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Sonnet XVII
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light...
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I hate working on Friday nights, I always miss...
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Nor will tumblr upload a picture of a t rex...
touché tumblr, touché…
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my face is too ugly tumblr won't upload my photo