i love like flowers and fire… i don’t know any other way – poem…

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.

instead of becoming rage too, i said to my heart..
exit gracefully. heal and grow.
don’t look back.

– butterflies rising

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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.

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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all those flowers growing from your chest…

the stretching of your heart walls and all those flowers growing from your chest.

give me
your tender and your fire…
all of it broken open, nothing less.
the stretching of your heart walls and all those
flowers growing from your chest.

– 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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little seeds, someday flowers: version 2…

little seeds, someday flowers... today i will be good to myself, and tomorrow maybe a little

little seeds, someday flowers…

today i will
be good to me,
and tomorrow maybe
a little bit better,
until being good to me
is a little easier,
and maybe even someday
not so hard at all.
maybe these are just little seeds
but i’ll keep giving them
touches of sunlight…
just a little hope here
and a little grace there
and a little more light in those
places holding all the fear,
and then maybe all these little seeds
just might grow until someday they
become flowers…
and then i will be made of flowers.

– butterflies rising

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