she’s a wild butterfly finding her way…

she’s a wild butterfly finding her way

– butterflies rising

she gets wild with the moon
and restless

– butterflies rising

the next time
a boy wants to bring me flowers,
he has to want to love
my fire too.

– butterflies rising

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

not just when she's flowers but when she's fire

could you
love her, still…
when she’s not only
soft in your arms
but when she’s wild
with the moon and restless…
and maybe just a little out of reach
from your fingertips.
could you love her, still,
when she’s not only sweet and
resting easy on your chest,
but when she’s wild blossomed in the night
and searching for more inside of herself
than who you may think she is.
could you love her
not just when she’s flowers
but when she’s fire.
she has to know… if she lets you close…
when she blooms wild and burns bright…
could you love her, still.

– butterflies rising

she blooms wild and burns bright

– butterflies rising

shadow & sugar…

you are
allowed to be
a many-layered thing…
to have texture and shades.
to be kissed by the sunlight
and bitten by the moon
and to feel all the different ways
that you feel,
all the raw and tender mess of it all.
to let all of that shadow and sugar be in you
and the pretty and dirty and beautiful and wild
run through you and spill out of you
everywhere, all at once…
to just let yourself be a
soft and wild thing.

– butterflies rising