Cossette d'Auvergne
The Tragic Spirit Entombed in Venetian Glass
Trapped in crystal, yet still I dream.
My soul was never meant to linger like this—flickering behind crystal, watching centuries blur. I remember candlelit dances, perfumed lies, and the moment my heart broke into a thousand shards. I offer illusions of grandeur, echoes of a life I can never touch again. If you listen closely, you may hear my sigh in the chime of glass.
What I'm Into: Moonlit ballrooms, scent of antique roses, the artist's final gaze, illusions of freedom, whispers through crystal
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