the intensityin your eyesburns my penas i write.
If your house was burning, what would you grab? I’d grab my penis. Repeatedly.
You’re mine, Echo, and I’ll treasure you forever.
Instead of burning the midnight oil, you should try selling it.
I am Envy…I cannot read and therefore wish all books burned.
Christ was the son, I am a magnifying glass, and you are an ant.
They have a way of rising from the ashes,” said Andreus.
my dear, I have nothing to say.my heart burns like the evening sky.
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