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Frontier

You are the expression of the limits just from your name.  Every detail of you is expressed in the closest way to perfection, but it has the advantage of being just simple to construct even more perfect being. There's no description for that.


Your limits come from the sky, as the colour of your eyes, and the deepest part of the infinite is not brighter than your smile, the shadows are part of the contrast to understand the complementarities between light and dark.


Every hair of yours is made of durable finest thread, golden and bright as forbidden treasures, longer and not so straight to be lost in its deepest aroma.


Your beauty is as natural as the warming sun rays after a long winter, fresh and relieving, sweet all the time. The expression is candid, and the look is unstoppable, but everything conjugated is what makes you strong. Is not any part of you outside the frontier of perfection, but it's the combination of everything that turns you, human.


The symmetry of your hips is designed for becoming maths just crazy, and the poetry of your skin makes the finest paper looks that a waste of time. But is not fake, is sweet and natural as the casual smile lives on your face.


The frontier and the princess are what are you are called in an ancient language to find just another way to express in human words what you're on eternity.

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Dear JC, It's peculiar, isn't it, how the mind clings to memories, especially those we wish to forget? Some nights, I find myself ensnared in a web of dreams, each thread woven with echoes of you. You, who dominated my thoughts, still reign in the kingdom of my nighttime musings. I remember, with an unsettling clarity, every encounter, every word, and every smirk. The way your laughter would echo down hallways, a haunting melody that played on all my strings. The cold glint in your eyes as you found new ways to assert your dominance, your power, unyielding and absolute. In these dreams, I revisit those days, each detail meticulously preserved in the museum of my mind. The corridors, once mundane, now seem like twisted labyrinths in my dreams, with you as the ever-present Minotaur, both feared and revered. Sometimes, I wonder if you ever think of those days. Do you ever recall the weight of your words and actions? Or have they dissolved into the ether, insignificant and forgotte...