❛THEY WOULD TELL YOU OF A KING WHO STOLE ME HELPLESS FROM MY SUNSHINE GARDEN.❜
They won't tell you about the woman who came to him sublime, lily eyes and lily lips. A king does not ask permission from his prize, but she, oh she, she knelt, kissing m...
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What’s the world, to a goddess?
Her eyes hold the capacity of a clear morning sky. The wind whispers her name, springtime raindrops light as her heartbeat. Rivers of gold flow in her veins: rush beneath my fingertips.
