𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝
 𝐚 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐨,
 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞
 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐰.

𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞:
𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞;
𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐰
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧

𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭;
 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞
 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐰
 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 !

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞
 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 !
 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬
 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫.

- emily dickinson, xxi, the moon.





**✿❀○❀✿**





Aurora Salvatore was that of an unattainable beauty. She was passed understanding. She was kind, gentle, and above all anything, pure. Aurora held nothing but love in her heart. She left wildflowers of the upmost charm in her wake. She was the beginning of everything ordinary and extraordinary all together. Her looks were beyond ethereal. From her raven hair, to her emerald green eyes, to the dimple on her right cheek that would make an appearance whenever she smiled, she was quite literally an angel.

𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬, kmWhere stories live. Discover now