there are girls and women in your world with their guards up…

there are girls and women in your world with their guards up, and they want to be so soft... but i promise you

there are girls and women in your world with
their guards up, and they want to be so soft…
but i promise you, they’ve been given
so many reasons not to be.

and there are girls and women in your world
who are so soft… but there’s a good chance
it’s in spite of so many reasons they’ve
been given not to be.

– butterflies rising

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as many things as you want to be…

in spite of anyone else's barriers and limitations and boxes and stories...  i hope you let yourself dream. and search. and discover.

no matter anyone else’s barriers
and limitations and boxes and stories…

i hope you let yourself dream.
and search. and discover. and grow.
and be many-layered, and curious, and unlimited…
and passionate and wild… and soft and vulnerable…
and have depth or lightness…
and be found or lost…

and be as many other things as you want to be.

and i hope you find a way to be unafraid and
unapologetic and undeterred as you do…

because other people’s barriers
and limitations and boxes and stories
are just that… theirs.

– butterflies rising

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she’s beautiful chaos and wild butterflies…

she's a wildflower on fire with all that sweet soul sugar

she’s a
wildflower on fire
with all that sweet soul sugar
and an ache inside to unfold
and to grow into so much more,
all that destiny written in her eyes,
she’s wild butterflies,
and she feels her heart pulled
under the wild of the moon to face her fears
and to find her way through all of the dark
and the heavy that she’s carried for so long…
there’s fight here,
but there’s surrender here too.
and there could be so much freedom here
if she could just let herself fall into that
beautiful chaos and dig deep into
that passion in her bones…
she could uncover all the beautiful things
that those wildfires inside of her hold.

– butterflies rising

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she feels her heart pulled under the wild of the moon…

she feels her heart pulled under the wild of the moon to face all her fears

she feels her heart pulled
under the wild of the moon to face
all her fears and to find her way through
all of the dark and heavy things that
she’s carried for so long

– butterflies rising

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being affected by things is beautiful…

a heart that changes shape when something moves you

…a heart that changes shape when something moves you

Say this to yourself as much as you need to hear it…

“Being affected by things is beautiful.”

As overwhelming as it can get… it is beautiful. And your heart may get a little worn out and weary at times, but it grows and expands and makes space for more… more beauty, more love, more compassion, more passion… you are moved, and affected, and changed, and expanded by things, and it’s beautiful.

– butterflies rising

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he loved my fire… as long as i was held tight within his grasp…

love her flowers and fire

he loved my fire…
as long as i was held tight within his grasp.
but when i was out of his line of sight,
i’d better be somewhere
soft-voiced and southern-charmed,
sitting still and not looking too pretty.
and so i made myself sweeter and smaller
and less and less and less, for his fears…
and in the end, he still couldn’t love me.
and i didn’t love me either.
but i’m slowly starting to…
and i want to love all of me.

so the next time a boy wants to bring me flowers,
he has to want to love my fire too.

– butterflies rising

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could you love her, still…

not just when she's flowers but when she's fire

could you
love her, still
when she’s not only
soft in your arms
but when she’s wild
with the moon and restless…
and maybe just a little out of reach
from your fingertips.
could you love her, still,
when she’s not only sweet and
resting easy on your chest,
but when she’s wild blossomed in the night
and searching for more inside of herself
than who you may think she is.
could you love her
not just when she’s flowers
but when she’s fire.
she has to know… if she lets you close…
when she blooms wild and burns bright…
could you love her, still.

– butterflies rising

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