you feel like home,
and everywhere i’ve never been,
all at once
– butterflies rising
Read More →Tag: Divine Masculine
you feel like home, and everywhere i’ve never been…
i don’t know why it is, but…
you feel like home,
and everywhere i’ve never been,
all at once.
it doesn’t make sense…
or maybe it does?
maybe love is the safest place you could ever be,
and every new and undiscovered place
you have yet to go,
all at the same time.
yeah…
i think that’s perfectly how it’s
supposed to feel.
– butterflies rising
Read More →fire and wild and art and love and sugar and soul….
passion. and vulnerability. fire and wild and art and love and sugar and soul….
passion.
and vulnerability.
fire and wild and art and love
and sugar and soul.
a pull towards the stars;
an ache to be more free…
to feel. so. alive.
with a need to feel things deeper
and sweeter and closer,
and a heart that changes shape
when something moves you.
it’s all so beautiful.
so let go of the ways this
world says you’re supposed to be
and feel all of the ways
that your soul is.
– butterflies rising
Read More →heartbeats and bite marks and body heat…
you and i,
we get restless, and we run wild,
and we need more than
an ordinary love and a tamed life
because some aches are made of everything.
we crave everything. from the soul-deep
to being tangled up in heartbeats
and bite marks and body heat;
we’re driven by our instincts,
and we get drunk on moonlight,
and god, how we need a life made of
things we can chew on,
and we need nights where we find ourselves
when we lose a little sleep
and we feel 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
Read More →we burn, we run, we love…
to feel your soul…
i don’t want to
search through all those other souls
trying to find some way to feel…
i just want to feel your soul.
– butterflies rising
Read More →in his sleep…
there are
things he holds
close, in the awake,
in the lucid,
things he feels, but he fears
how they might fall out so helpless,
so unarmed, so defenseless…
and god, how those walls
can make me question.
but then he dreams with an open chest,
and he tells me of what he’s sure of,
and that i can let my head rest,
‘cause this isn’t a small love,
and that most times it feels like too much love,
and so sometimes… he’s just afraid.
so my fears… they just fall quiet
with the way he speaks to me
in his sleep.
he may have a
hardened chest in the wake light,
but there are flowers in the moonlight,
and when his fears fall quiet…
there are all these things he feels
when his defenses are down.
– butterflies rising
Read More →that sure kind of love…
that sure kind of love…
where jealousy has no resting place,
and doubt has no home
– butterflies rising
Read More →misogyny is a weak man’s crutch…
traces of him…
i think
it’s been his soul
passing through the others…
leaving traces of him,
of these memories we’ve yet to live,
leaving breadcrumbs to him
in the ones who were
just lessons,
it’s been breadcrumbs to home…
all of it guiding me as i grow.
– butterflies rising
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