A pretty little tight-wearing party dress and she’s about as beautiful as we can ever behold to get

Fret to fear not,
Something or another altogether universal about her undeniably righteous adequacy, this glaring inability to be anything other than
Simply, quite gloriously… She, with gargantuan Christmas bells lavishly stressed tailend stressed upon

‘Tis the season to feed on her alabaster framework and smoke needlestick cigarettes as she alters her laddered dress

Holds the ultimate in radiant reapproval and, rest reassured, we will move to make the whole wide earth shake on it’s holy grail axis to make her simply ours

Not mine,
I’m here to make the whole midnight show prosper, whilst I dash ‘n’ dive bombastically fixated amidst, with this driven-to-imperfect-precision pen

A gentle albeit steadfast giant no less – carries with it these subconsciously trying eyes, to meet the prize of a lifetime by all undiluted circumstances

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