love languages (blood + sugar + love + magic)…

love languages (blood + sugar + love + magic)

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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the boys who bleed flowers and fire…

the boys who bleed flowers and fire

he’s got
a little mischief
in his smile and
a little wild in his eyes,
but there’s bleeding
in that heart
and a whole lot of
passion in that soul,
and he doesn’t just
make you feel things…
he lets himself
feel it all too.

– the boys who bleed flowers and fire

– butterflies rising

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a graceful exit…

i love like flowers and fire...

i love like flowers and fire…
i don’t know any other way.
soft and vulnerable,
and wild and burning…
with my heart broken. wide. open.
and even though he came in like wildfire,
he was just. broken.
and hardened. and filled with an
ugliness raging inside of him
and he thought that if he raged
hard enough against me
that he could rage an ugliness out
from inside of me too.
then he could say, “see, it’s you.”
that he could be so hard to love that
he could make me feel hard to love too.
but i just softly left the room.
a graceful exit.
and i wrote all my feelings down to shed
his hardened residue.
and to remind myself of all the ways
that there are such beautiful and tender
things in me… always.

– butterflies rising

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angst and ache and wild mess…

give me your tender and your fire. your angst and ache and wild mess.

give me your tender and your fire. your angst
and ache and wild mess. all of it broken open,
nothing less. i want passion and raw vulnerability…
the stretching of your heart walls and all those
flowers growing from your chest.

– butterflies rising

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the tender and the fire…

give me the tender and the fire. i want the angst and ache and wild mess.

give me
the tender and the fire.
i want the angst and ache
and wild mess.
all of it broken open,
nothing less.
because there’s just nothing else
that can disarm me like that.
it completely takes me apart…
a man’s passion and
raw vulnerability,
the stretching of his heart walls
and all those flowers growing
from his chest.

– butterflies rising

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