and there are all of these beautiful things… sunlight, goodness, stars… you…

sometimes this world feels like the heaviest place that we could ever know, and it aches just to breathe here.

sometimes
this world feels
like the heaviest place
that we could ever know,
and it aches just to breathe here.
but then i look around,
and there are all of these
beautiful things… sunlight,
goodness, stars… you.

– butterflies rising

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i’ve got dreams… ones that are drenched in art and taste like adventure…

i've got dreams... ones that are drenched in art and taste like adventure

i’ve got dreams…
ones that are drenched in art
and taste like adventure…
ones that feel like
being kissed until my heart bursts…
ones that open up my whole soul
like a wildflower on fire.

– butterflies rising

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she wanders out in the flowers, in the wild…

like she's a beautiful wildness on fire

she wanders
out in the flowers,
in the wild, where the breathing
is easy and free… because it’s where
the judgment goes quiet…
and everything beautiful is so untouched.
it’s just beautiful. and wild. and fearless.
and whether it grows into something more
or burns down and has to start again,
it just does… fearlessly.
beautifully. and wild.
so she wanders out where she
can learn to see herself that way;
to see herself in the way that she looks
at flowers… like she’s a beautiful
wildness on fire.

– butterflies rising

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my mama had dreams…

i didn't know it for most of my growing up... but my mama had dreams.

i didn’t know it
for most of my growing up…
but my mama had dreams.
dreams that weren’t of ring shapes and dress colors.
she had dreams that were drenched in art
and tasted like adventure…
ones that felt like being kissed
until her heart burst…
ones that opened up her whole soul
like a wildflower on fire.
but i didn’t know it.
i didn’t know it because she tucked them away
in pretty memory boxes
and hid them in tattered journals that
she pushed aside for perfectly-scripted scrapbooks,
and she buried all her burning desires under
yes ma’ams and sunday dresses
and sweet, supportive smiles,
while any part of her that ever maybe might
could’ve known that she mattered…
by herself, for herself,
and belonging. to. herself.
suffocated quietly under the white noise
of all those voices that had told her that
all that really mattered
was that she had been chosen… by him.

and when i started to see that inside of her
was a whole other woman that she ached to be…
i knew i couldn’t go through my life aching for the me
i’d never be, in that same way.

so all i’ve ever wanted… is to know that i matter.
by myself. for myself. and belonging to myself.
chosen by no one, but me.

– butterflies rising

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