Flowers & Fire Poetry, Flowers And Fire Poetry
and you ask me…
how will i know it’s him
when he comes along?
i’ll know it’s him
by the way he walks in
wearing respect like a nice suit
and holding that
take. it. slow. magic.
with his self-love, self-required,
just radiating liberation from old men’s tales,
and because…
before he lets me love him…
it will matter that i love myself.
– butterflies rising
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why would
we ever ask each other
to come out from our corners
of self-safety
and crumble down our walls
for anything that wouldn’t
be as true and deep
and beautifully wild
and as gutted open and as
raging as to be living, breathing
thunderstorms in each other’s arms,
tracing our fingers through starlight…
why would i move
when i’m this. terrified. to move.
so if you’re going to ask me
to shed away my safety
…let it be for everything beautiful
imaginable under god.
– butterflies rising
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what if the raging inside of you is something beautiful…
your curiosity stretching and your soul stirring
– butterflies rising
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you are allowed to be lovely
and important,
to speak up, and out, and convicted
from the same mouth that tends
to love and cradles lilies
it’s stunning when you let
why you’re here spill out of you
– butterflies rising
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maybe tonight
we just dissolve into the stars…
leaving gravity behind,
quieting our heads and trading
all our dreams and curiosities
between soul and skin.
i just. get. restless.
and i can’t stay too human
for too long… it’s too heavy.
i need to leave the atmosphere,
or pull your soul aesthetic closer;
close enough to taste moon dust
in the back of my throat.
and whether we actually transcend
or just lose all sense…
i don’t care.
let’s break open and
scatter and spill and spill…
our wild universes
colliding under these stars.
– butterflies rising
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my restlessness is running wild again… and the peace always feels like you.
– butterflies rising
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