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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