cónvo of celia.


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✦ ㅤㅤㅤ 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐑 ⩩ ˒
ㅤㅤ ㅤ 𝓘 d𝗼n'𝐭 n𝗲e𝗱 n𝗼b𝗼d𝘆's 𝗽e𝗿m𝗶s𝐬i𝗼n.
ㅤ𝖻𝖺 ─ 𝖻𝗒 ◟𝓣h𝗶s 𝐭i𝐦e i𝐭's m𝘆 w𝗮y.

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07.45 AM — In Our Bedroom

"babyyy, wake up!" menguncangkan badanmu yang sedang tertidur lelap, "babyy, wake up! is 07.45 kamu bukannya ada reuni sama temen kamu?" masih berusaha membangunkanmu. Akhirnya, celia pun meninggalkan mu dan turun ke dapur untuk membuat sarapan, "hey, babygirl" menyapamu dengan suara serak khas baru bangun tidur dan memeluk badan mungil celia, Celia sempat tersentak kaget karena pelukan dari kamu. "oh, hey baby i make you breakfast!! do u want to taste it?" sambil menatap binar matamu, kamu terkekeh kecil. "eumm, so delicious my girlfriend are really good at cookingg" sambil mengecup pucuk kepala celia, celia membalasnya dengan senyuman manisnya.














When I spend fun time with friends I feel alive.
We tell silly stories, eat pizzas, and dive;
Watch TV shows, discuss them, walk in the street,
Go shopping, film videos, follow the beat.

I’m grateful to my parents, who gave me life.
My Mum’s my best friend and a perfect wife
For my Dad . . .
They are cheerful, intelligent and a great example for me,
Though we are a little family of three . . .

When I’m alone I may feel sad and weak —
I have a strong desire for someone to whom to speak.
But then my cute doggy comes up and makes me laugh —
My sadness goes away and my weakness cuts in half.

I’m so happy and grateful to have such a life.
I want to say thank you to everyone who perfects my drive,
Who supports, gives advice, or a helping hand,
Forgives, loves, rejoices, and tries to understand!






mostly bout of my life :D *tink*






Fairest Diana
by Michael R. Burch

Fairest Diana, princess of dreams,
born to be loved and yet distant and lone,
why did you linger―so solemn, so lovely―
an orchid ablaze in a crevice of stone?

Was not your heart meant for tenderest passions?
Surely your lips―for wild kisses, not vows!
Why then did you languish, though lustrous, becoming
a pearl of enchantment cast before sows?

Fairest Diana, as fragile as lilac,
as willful as rainfall, as true as the rose;
how did a stanza of silver-bright verse
come to be bound in a book of dull prose?











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