I see the blossoms broke and wet after the rain.
Little sister, he will be back again.
I have washed a thousand spiders down the drain.
Spiders’ ghosts hang, soaked and
dangling silently, from all the blooming cherry trees,
in tiny nooses, safe from everyone —
nothing but a nuisance; gone now, dead and done —
Be a woman. Be a woman.
DO YOU EVER JUST REMEMBER HOW MUCH YOU LOVE HARRY POTTER LIKE OUT OF NOWHERE THESE FEELINGS SWOOP IN AND PUNCH YOU IN THE HEART
Fairytale Princess hair… How is this even possible??!!?!
I want to spend a weekend here running through the dark mysterious walls, then lush green rolling pastures…