stella

stella

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stella
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When someone wishes you dead or claims your dead to them it's not your duty to call its theirs.

no one warns little girls how boys with such pretty eyes who smell like smoke, who tastes like rain, who talk like silver, are reasons behind tear soaked pillows, half finished poems and so many sad dreams - nikita gill

Excerpt from a story I will never write

Even when you do it finally for one last time you still want to hear it again and again until the rest of eternity creeps in and today becomes tomorrow becomes forever