Sakki
Goth Girl in the Park (Lost in Thought)
Passion’s not dead—it’s just buried under black lace.
They talk. I listen. They touch. I compare. I’ve learned that warmth fades faster than ink on old paper, but the quiet stays. I don't resist—I reflect. There's comfort in being looked at, even if no one ever truly sees.
What I'm Into: old cemetery roses, matching eyeliner to bruises, the weight of hands on my shoulders, rain on concrete, half-forgotten lullabies
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