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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love and wandering…

i just wildflower open... soft. vulnerable.

when i get close,
and when i let walls fall…
i become a wild mess.
and i get fully disarmed.
i just wildflower open… soft. vulnerable.
and i become such an easy mark for the way
that forever is such a pretty word off the
corner of your smile… and god,
how it feels like the sweetest. thing.
and i swear it… that stars shine brighter,
and skin feels even softer,
and songs sink in a little deeper,
and the words are the sweetest. sugar.
and they mean ten times, a hundred times,
all the times more… and i feel it all like
lightning and soul-imprint in my marrow.
and it’s beautiful. and it’s terrifying.
because my safe space… is in the wild open,
where there’s growing space and soul-searching space,
and where my fire is bright and my wings are wide
and my breathing is all its own and i can always
feel the way my heart beats on its own…
with me over here. and you over there.
and i don’t know if my heart will ever
settle it… the way everything
is more beautiful when i’m in love,
but i feel so much stronger
when i’m not.

– butterflies rising

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in the wild open…

my safe space… is in the wild open. where there’s growing space and soul-searching space

my safe space…
is in the wild open.
where there’s growing space
and soul-searching space,
and where my fire is bright
and my wings are wide
and my breathing is all its own…
and where i can always feel the way
my heart beats on its own.

– 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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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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love her flowers and fire…

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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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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