𓂃𓁘𓍬 Ålternative Thursdays

T𓋹night I find myself once more pondering on the pauses between worded plight. I read what is already dried & cemented, still I am st⛤ck inside the lost slivers of insight. I am m❦th to the flame wondering if the poet breathing within my black ashen heart, Could letter some ink that befits its truths expressed in better spirited lights; in Obsidian shards of celestial flickering Literary sprites. 𓆃 If then, we should be able to find each other. We could dance with reckless abandon & passions afire amethyst and aloft into the fullness of Time-sands. We fly, Swåy and fade into the incandescence & purest soot-stricken nebulas of a moonlit night... Oh how Perfectly poisoned, how enticing the hidden nuances all fraying edged gapped letters alive. For a Møth like me, often pondering, it might just cup & ignite my dusty parchment-wings. For a Mõth like me, these silent spaces might prove one day - Deådly. 𓏗⚬⭘⧂(◕‿◕)