
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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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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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…
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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you’re allowed to be soft and vulnerable and to have so much depth… but to also be so pretty and dirty and beautiful and wild… all at once.
– butterflies rising
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wolves and lovers…
wolves and lovers,
restless and running wild,
we need more than an ordinary love
and a tamed life
because some aches are made of everything.
craving. everything. from the soul-deep to
being tangled up in heartbeats and
bite marks and body heat…
driven by instincts and drunk on moonlight,
we need a life made of things
we can chew on,
and nights where we find ourselves
when we lose a little sleep
and we feel the blood in our veins
and the passion in our chests like kerosene…
so i’ll go with you, if you’ll come with me…
and we’ll burn… we’ll run… we’ll love.
– butterflies rising
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all
that destiny
in those wild eyes,
so much passion in
that wild heart,
all the marks on you
and the strength in you
from the mountains within you
that you’ve scaled to get here…
so. many. moons. in you
…it’s beautiful.
– butterflies rising
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love languages…
blood + fire… the wild. the passionate.
the visceral things that burn in your veins,
that bite at your senses, that give you a pulse
sugar + flowers… the sweet. the soft.
the vulnerable things that tender the walls
and break your heart open
love + soul… the deep. the true. the heart.
the lungs. the breathing. the wings. the free…
the things you ache for… and the ones that ache back
magic + stars… the infinite. the destined.
the things you feel beyond words, beyond bodies,
beyond… before… after… always.
– butterflies rising
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