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There is nothing heavenly about Paradise on Earth. Valley of the Dolls (2021) ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
THERE WAS SOMETHING ineffably pretty about laying in bed with the queen of the Valley of the Dolls and whoever lived to tell the tale didn't spare any details.
It was like falling in love over and over again with your jaw bending to hold all the words you wished you could say, but never could even phantom to speak out loud. And then it cracked when she ran her delicate hands up to your cheek and ran them past the curve of your face, down to the crook of your neck. She was a girl of gossamer eyes and honeyed-lips that bled poisoned-power whenever she talked. And when they parted, when the chasm in her chiffon curtains let in just a hint of bleeding-red dawn, you'd find yourself walking out with burning limbs and engaging in the longest walk of fame of your life.
She lived in the Valley of the Dolls, after all. Her mouth was so full of cigarette-smoke and sweet cherry-bubblegum sunrises she was sure her jaw would one day shatter and spill her (many) secrets on the delicate pearly-white lace of the brand-new tea-gown in the back of her closet. She was the girl who slips onto the pool floor fully clothed while the party buzzes to a sickening silence. She was the crimson lipstick stain on the top of the cigarette and the trace smelled like destruction. She was the strong desire that laid behind strangers' fingertips and lustful eyes and the color of roses swaying to the summertime wind. She'd be the sea if she stirred less and was vibrant turquoise, but she wore vivid red and cut her teeth on ivory pearl necklaces.
