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@wordsbymsb

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liberty, london
And I weave you in my words, I weave you in my poetry. At the edge of my memories, there is always you. In the corner of my thoughts, there’s you and there are the moments we shared. Just you and me. Your hand on my waist, my lips on yours. The first time and the last time. I still remember it like it was yesterday. The way you looked at me when you saw me for the first time and the the way your eyes fell when you last looked at me. And I remembered the way the light danced around the trees and even though it was only May, I felt the warmth of summer around the corner because of you. Because of the way your hands intertwined with mine and how it felt like I was yours. Just for a moment. And please tell me why I can’t forget you. Why it’s November now and you’re still the only thing on my mind? And I know that you’re not thinking about me. But I miss you so much. And I wish I could be in your arms again just one last time.
The best loves are the soft ones. The ones you don’t see coming. The ones that grow over time, with gentle smiles and slow touches. From small talks to touching lips. From brushing fingers against each other to holding each other with steady hands. From friends to lovers. From secret glances to dreamy eye contact.
Ich fühle so viel für dich und dann irgendwie wieder nichts. Jedenfalls will ich nicht an dich denken. Ich denke an den Sommer und dann automatisch immer an dich. Niemand hat mich je so angesehen wie du es getan hast. Ich denke an deine Lippen und alles was du warst. Ich denke an alles was wir hätten sein können und alles was wir nie sein werden. Ich denke an alle Sommernächte mit dir, an alle Morgen. An die Musik, die wir zusammen gehört haben. An dein Lachen, an jeden Moment.

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One day you sit in the sun and you are in awe of how far you have come. All you ever wanted is yours. All the things you dreamed of are reality. All the people you read about are in your life. You are living the life that you only knew from books, from movies and from art. You are drinking wine with people under the stars. People who understand you, without saying a word. People who make you feel so alive that you forget that you ever wanted to die. And one day, you are at peace with yourself. With your mistakes, with your regrets, with your bad habits. And you are the best version of yourself, happy, glowing, learning. Dancing through all the chaos. You are not affected by other peoples perception of you. You are not defined by others peoples opinions. You are yourself. Without any apologies. You are visiting flowermarkets, coffee shops and bookshops in beautiful cities. You meet strangers who tell you stories about life, love and loss. The books whisper that there are stories waiting for you everywhere. You taste happiness on your lips and you see the stars in other peoples eyes. They remind you what it feels like to be alive. That your heart is beating. They kiss your troubles away, even if just for a moment. They show you books and art and music and they wrap their arms around you and make you feel at home. The home you have been looking for all your life. And suddenly, the future is full of possibilities. Full of promises. And the present is dreamy and it is beautiful and it is real. The sadness still lingers in the corners of your mind. But it does not hurt anymore, not as much. It is a fleeting feeling, a bittersweet one. Always reminding you of your past. But now, in this very moment you are at ease and there is nothing more beautiful than that.
And grief still comes. It wraps its arms around your neck and for a moment, you can’t breathe and the tears tumble down your face. It says: ‚I am still here. And I am not going to leave you.‘ And you answer: ‚I know. I am still here too. And I’m learning to live with you.‘ You get up. The world keeps on turning. But sometimes you still feel shivers running down your spine.
I like bares faces and imperfections. I like genuine laughter and gentle smiles. I like morning voices and messy hair. I like honesty and deep conversations. I like the way people look when they are lost in thought. Or reading, completely lost in another world. I like people who are trying. Who are not afraid to admit that they are not perfect.
Maybe I have to savor cups of coffee, soak in the golden light of sunsets, get lost in the arms of my friends, in their laughter. Maybe I have to live in the moment and let the past go. Maybe I have to let go of the idea that there is anything in the world that fills the void, that gives me back all the things that I’m missing because there isn’t. I am only truly fulfilled when I am grateful for everything that I already have. Maybe I need people more than anything else. People who understand me. Maybe I have to feel the rain with every inch of my body. Maybe I have to memorise every kiss, every look into my eyes. Maybe I have to remember their eye colour and the way they said my name. Maybe those are the things that make me feel truly alive. Maybe it’s rainy days, maybe it’s listening to old songs that make me feel nostalgic. Maybe it’s days spent in bookshops and cafés. Maybe it’s buying fresh flowers. Maybe it’s hot cups of coffee early in the morning. Maybe it’s falling asleep to the sound of rain. Maybe it’s nothing I own, maybe it’s experiences, maybe it’s memories.
I like bares faces and imperfections. I like genuine laughter and gentle smiles. I like morning voices and messy hair. I like honesty and deep conversations. I like the way people look when they are lost in thought. Or reading, completely lost in another world. I like people who are trying. Who are not afraid to admit that they are not perfect.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I like bares faces and imperfections. I like genuine laughter and gentle smiles. I like morning voices and messy hair. I like honesty and deep conversations. I like the way people look when they are lost in thought. Or reading, completely lost in another world. I like people who are trying. Who are not afraid to admit that they are not perfect.
I like bares faces and imperfections. I like genuine laughter and gentle smiles. I like morning voices and messy hair. I like honesty and deep conversations. I like the way people look when they are lost in thought. Or reading, completely lost in another world. I like people who are trying. Who are not afraid to admit that they are not perfect.
I like bares faces and imperfections. I like genuine laughter and gentle smiles. I like morning voices and messy hair. I like honesty and deep conversations. I like the way people look when they are lost in thought. Or reading, completely lost in another world. I like people who are trying. Who are not afraid to admit that they are not perfect.
The best loves are the soft ones. The ones you don’t see coming. The ones that grow over time, with gentle smiles and slow touches. From small talks to touching lips. From brushing fingers against each other to holding each other with steady hands. From friends to lovers. From secret glances to dreamy eye contact.
She looked at him and the stars aligned. He smiled and she couldn’t stop staring at him. She wondered what his lips would taste like. How they would feel on hers. His heart was beating for someone else. His smile belonged to someone else. Not to her. He was just another heartbreak, another unrequited longing. A story written in the stars. But she couldn’t stop dreaming of him.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Hot coffee. Autumn mornings. Scented candles. Writing in notebooks. Poetry. Rainy days. Head full of ideas. The urge to be better. To learn. To think for yourself. A pile of unread books. Watching Dead Poets Society. Realising that beauty, romance and love is what we stay alive for. Reading classics. Getting lost in Fitzgeralds words and E.E Cummings poetry. Feeling nostalgic for past times. Writing poetry on a typewriter. Watching the leaves fall. Lighting candles. Dreaming of more.
She always found happiness in the simple things. Coffee on a cold winter morning. The smell of fresh roses. The light of a candle. The smile of a stranger. A genuine compliment. For her, these things were pure magic.
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