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    Summary

    Oh god his curls.

    I wouldn’t call myself religious by any means, but there is no explanation but a holy power. No earthling could create those curls. The chocolate-moose curls are swirling and dancing on his head like only Van Gogh himself painted them. I could write sonnet after sonnet about those godly curls. They dance their way onto his shoulders like they were made for the sole purpose of destroying me.

    God I must have been cross faded.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    535
    Chapters:
    1/?
    Kudos:
    6
    Bookmarks:
    3
    Hits:
    451
  2. 25 Feb 2021

    Public Bookmark

  3. 22 Feb 2021

    Public Bookmark

    Bookmark Notes:

    22.02.21 (1)

  4. 22 Feb 2021

    Public Bookmark

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    Bookmark Notes:

    W