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mirages.he's a beautiful boy dressed as a nightmare, and he manages to lull everyone into his eyes. tendrils of blood trail after his delicate fingers, and he says he can be taken higher than ever. he holds you as gently as possible, and his skin silently burns alongside yours. something about his kisses tastes not quite right, but when he presses his red, red lips harder against yours, you can't quite focus.
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he paints mirages of broken legs and collapsed hearts, draws suns of forgotten dreams and fearsome pulsations. because somehow, he doesn't survive, doesn't live through storms of fire, doesn't end up seeing the light of day. he scratches at the smudges on his skin and he whispers to his art, your side has become cold, and sometimes i don't want to be with you anymore.
you were a love of art that was taken too far.