a wild butterfly finding your way…

maybe you go a little wayward and get a little reckless, but be easy on your restless heart

what if the
raging inside of you
is something beautiful…
your curiosity stretching
and your soul stirring…
all that wildflower energy in your veins.
and the ache is everything you’ve suffocated
for so long just trying to find some way to breathe.
and when it feels like you’re burning it all down,
you’re just still learning how to burn bright.
maybe you go a little wayward
and get a little reckless,
but be easy on your restless heart;
have a little grace with your fire…
you’re a wild butterfly finding your way,
just a girl growing wings.

– butterflies rising

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love and wandering…

when i get close, and when i let walls fall... i become a wild mess.

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 where 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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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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