The Perfume Bottle
The many divots and indents upon its body of glass twinkle like the stained windows of a cathedral at night, devoid of colour.
Stains that smell like the twinkling of an old piano in a dusty library. A smell that coats the hollows of your bones, like buttery sunlight streaming through a broken window.
About the author
Random drabbles, heartfelt rambles, and the occasional splash of chaos from a teen with too many thoughts and not enough time.
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