Lovethlore, Act. I : The Despair.

guys disaster comings... our middleman @prosaismbot cannot sending any message right now jadi for mutuals offer boleh langsung chat aku ya @lovelorre. thank you <3

nanti reopening aku bakal bagi bagi moodboard gratiss yah *promise* 🤞🏻

OMG AKU SAYANG KALIAN SEMUA 🥹🥹

LETTERS OF AFFILIATION ╱ L.B. {to every couplet of fixating eyes, would be regarded highly to propagate this billet-doux of mine—may it be to your bureau or to fellows and foes. i proffer our utmost thanksgiving for all the aids.} good morrow, all hands! i would like to invite you to join my social party that is not very social, where all the artists and writers gathered to discuss ideas. may i? hence within this letter of beseech, allures a desire to interweave and becoming homies abeam. salutations to every profile needs business—especially those icons designer, pastiches framer, and writers out there, LOVETHLORE offers you their courtesies through @prosaismbot. please be sure to use the main account since i do subscribe yours with mine. much obliged! xx.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‌‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ THE PROEM ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ o my shining star, none will shine like thine orbs thou forever dwell aloft the horizon heart, at core, everlastingly mine. until time solicit us apart, mine own loveth.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎sunbeam wallow to pierce its rays through the welkin’s gossamer clouds. ‘tis times like this, where the horizon far too dim and the breeze a tad too cold; the heart of one aches a dram more when eyes fixate farther down the pavement, longing for her. one dame o’ pristine allure, whose beating crux prances with the humming birds. the lady whose heart bore an unequaled void within him yond none couldst brim but her own reaching hands. autumn’s falling leaves, stained porcelain cups of coffee, the orange sky as the sun sets to the west; all witnessers of the binding of their heartstrings beheld how a pair of souls adhered by red ribbons of fate. ‘twas pristinely a heart-twisting lore folks and their kins whisper to the wind as the old lull the young to their doze, hauling cherubs’ chests into serene dalliance with the tale of a gent and his inamorata and their ceaselessly knitting ardor. ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‌‎ ‎when inquisitiveness bleeds through the seams, solely a telltale-ing mouth couldst satiate such appetency for knowing more than what’s penned upon these pages. as i ascertain thy relentless pacing upon my garland of lores, this story i shalt tell to every reaching ears.