daydreaming is my fulltime job 🌞🌙
She's a ghost in the faint light of the sickle moon. Her doe eyes reflect the moss stuck to her cheeks. Her bruised lip trembles, as do her frail white fingers, dirty nails clutching around the hem of a torn salmon dress. She smells of roses and blood. I cannot let her in. Yet.
She's a ghost in the faint light of the sickle moon. Her doe eyes reflect the moss stuck to her cheeks. Her bruised lip trembles, as do her frail white fingers, dirty nails clutching around the hem of a torn salmon dress. She smells of roses and blood. I cannot let her in. Yet.