if it comes
close to you,
it has to be destiny-colored
and deep. souled.
there is too much gold in that skin
for anything but sure hands
to touch it.
there is too. much. fire. in that chest…
they’ve got to dance with your wildness
and play in your beautiful mess
and drip wild poetry on your lips
with their kiss.
if it comes close to you,
it has to feel like this.
nothing less.
– butterflies rising
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i want to fall
into that beautiful life
into the soft spaces
into the glow
where there’s moonlight
where there’s soul light
and where it means
something if you come close
and let your heart beat
against mine
– butterflies rising
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i think you’re made
of flowers; how you bloom
when there’s light on your skin.
you feel all that fire in your soul,
and it’s. so. beautiful.
but keep letting the sweetness in.
let yourself feel the glow.
be gentle with your raging heart
and softer with your chaos.
you are a wild thing,
but you are such a tender thing…
so maybe let even a little more of
that gentle in with how you grow.
dig out from the dark what you need to
and burn down what you have to
but then let yourself light up.
let in a little more sweetness
and a little more glow…
and let yourself feel all the ways
you’re made of flowers.
– butterflies rising
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i think you’re made of flowers;
how you bloom when there’s light
on your skin
– butterflies rising
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the sunkissed ones,
they leave a sweetness with you
that changes the
air you breathe forever
– butterflies rising
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i just don’t
know what to say
other than i am sorry
that we’ve asked you
to be burdened with living
something like warriors
to only give you afterwishes
and more of these i’m sorries
and i hope that someday soon
you get to feel safe
and that the only thing we
ask of you is just to be young.
– butterflies rising
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keep your way
of being love, keep this glow,
others will come to you
just to feel this
– butterflies rising
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let the
wonder and beauty
of your existence
fall out of you
everywhere, unafraid
no matter who may take it in
or hold it with care
let it all be
unshaken by the cold
– butterflies rising
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