Begonia Honeybloom.

😭

woi

Hey

She has a bookshelf for a heart, and ink runs through her veins. She 'll write you into her story, with the typewriter in her brain. Her bookshelf's a getting crowded with all the stories that she's penned, Of the people who ficked through her pages but closed the book before the end. And there's one pushed to the very back, that sits collecting dust with its title in her finest writing "The one's who lost my trust". there books she's scared to open and books she doesn't close. stories of every person she's met, Stretched out in endless rows. Some people have only a sentence while others once held a main part, thousand of inky footprints that they' ve left across her heart. You might wonder why she does this, why write of people she once knew?? but she hopes one day she' ll mean enough, for someone to write about her too. The bookshelf is filled with magic, Pots and pans, the soft smells of an old kitchen. The bookshelf is a boat setting sail with the dawn. The bookshelf is a mirror, in whose vast reflection I see the future. A window, providing light to the shadow less house. The bookshelf is a garden, a secret, infinite and overgrown. A snowy land that only the lost can claim. A playing field for sport on broomstick.The bookshelf is a romantic castle, Seating all the knights of Camelot. Four children seeking a lion, all wait on the second ridge. A tree filled with secrets for some young girl to find. Seemingly the end of a sidewalk and home to many dogs.My bookshelf is old wooden and stained. So dream, in hopes that it never ends.

hi moots

mau aku remove juga gabisa karna ketimbun sama sfs reg

aku udh left dari ch kalian

hallo moots