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somewhere between the hush of stars and the lull of seafoam breath, there lies a place untouched by time, where every sigh is a secret, every tear a poem, and the sky itself bends low to kiss the tender pulse of dreaming hearts. 𝅄 ֹ 𑁤
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˚₊ when the moon lingers long upon the breath of spring, i trace the shadows that bloom within her light, each one a memory reborn, soft and aching, fluttering pale as feathered hope upon the still water of my longing heart.
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