Melancholy Melodies ๐ง๏ธ
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The Garfield park conservatory in Chicago
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i dont like working i dont like capitalism but i do like ordering little treats online
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I love you baby , more than you will ever know. Sometimes it feels like my heart might burst from just how much.
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My body is not a hotel , it is a home. It is not a place where men may lodge, it is , however, a place where men may tend a garden , make better through repair, start a family, and a place where they may grow old.
My body is not a chapel, itโs a temple. Itโs made of stone to last forever, itโs sacred and could make a believer of the Antichrist, it could make them submit and worship in great fear and awe. It holds the cries of hallelujah , they fill it like a vessel to the heavens , the way a chapel never could.
My body is a not a public garden, itโs a labyrinth to a castle , itโs mystery and magic bring forth awe. There are sprites and there are creatures that are hiding in the dark. You could be lost here for ever , and youโll never make it out .
My body is a forest , with trees quite tall and lush, all of its trails are off and it doesnโt have a map, you might enter and not come back. My body is not a public park, there are no benches or any evidence that itโs ever been manned. Leave it as you found it, leave it as though untouched by your hands.
My body will always be mine, it will never be yours, so leave it better than you found it , and not better sat in hearse.
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She is a bright burning spirit glowing like a light sometimes red sometimes blue . Sometimes she is aflame and warms you up sometimes she cannot spark a light and leaves you cold while she scrambleds to find something to spark a light with. Sometimes it rains and it takes her weeks to dry and spark a light , sometimes she burns too strong until she burns out and needs to cool down before she can burn bright again. She just doesnโt work right.
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