love me youngblooded and firehearted…

she’s flowers and fire. - butterflies rising

love me
stretched out,
wing tips
touching nothing
but wild air…
love. me.
youngblooded and firehearted.
and when there’s aching in me,
please say, “chase it.”
and when there’s growing in me,
please say,
“it’s beautiful.”
love this restless soul
and this bleeding heart
that are falling all over you
messy and wild
just dying to love you
reckless and wild.
love me…
and tell me how free
my lungs will always breathe
when i love you.

– 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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all these big dreams…

take a deep breath and just hold on

you’ve got
this big heart
and it’s full of all
these big dreams
and maybe sometimes
they feel too big
and maybe sometimes
it feels too hard
but the heavens want to have
favor on you
and it may take a long time
but it will happen in its right time
so take a deep breath
and just hold on

– butterflies rising

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too full, too much…

she’s flowers and fire. - butterflies rising

for so long
i thought if i could just become. enough.
that it would be enough for him to be good to me
until i finally realized that wasn’t what he wanted.

he wanted me to be pretty enough
to be beautiful in his eyes,
but my eyes better not be too bright,
and that dress better not be too short,
and those lips better not be too full of lush and love
or talk of too much life for anyone else to see
something beautiful in me…
or heaven forbid,
for me to see something beautiful in myself.
and those dreams i had to find my voice and to spill
all the wild from my heart out into the world…
if i was chasing those dreams,
then i wouldn’t be small enough or sitting still enough as
the sure thing there waiting while he was chasing his.
the more i tried to be. enough. the more i became too much.

because underneath all the ways he needed me to be small,
“enough” is what he felt like he wasn’t.

– butterflies rising

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