I do not open easily to love.

But when I do, I become obsessive.
Fantasies run wild without being suppressive. Don't fret, it is not possessive. I'm still not sure if loves a curse or a blessing.

Desire to want every single part of them, kiss every inch of skin, to wake up every cell in their being. To get lost in the depths, until we lose our breath. I want to devour the other whole, as they devour me whole.

Acceptance looks a lot like denial
And denial looks a lot like acceptance. They are but two sides of the same coin.

We can look at someone fully accepting life in all it's glory and magic after pain and say they are in denial.

We can look at another who is in complete denial and say they are not accepting fully their situation.

But in the middle we exist.
We wax and wane like a pendulum.

People will tell you that they fully accept you,
Until you move outside their boundary of acceptance.

They will tell you that they fully see you, until they can no longer see themselves reflected back to you.

They will tell you that they love you, until you show them the messy traumatic parts that are too difficult and painful for them to love.

They will empower you, cherish and lift you, until they tear you into pieces and be done.

Tell you you've got the sexiest skin and body, until they see your stretchmarks and blood.

The reality is no-one will love, accept and cherish you the way you love, accept and cherish yourself.

I am not your conventional woman.
Sometimes I am not lady-like, I do not stay within the lines, I will always speak my mind.

I do not tolerate being told what to do, feel or how to be. I have met the masculine strongly in me, so do not attempt to tame me.

I was raised by wolves, barking in every direction. Ancestors burnt down for having an opinion.

I don't comply, I'm no pleasure-giver. Don't ask me to be a forgiver, if you cross me, prepare to feel your blood quiver.

Never by my hands or by my fists, but my pen and brush are the true misfits. I will drown you in poetry and burn you in paint, the fire in a womans soul is not some saint.

Let me be and listen to me,
that is how you soften me.

Flowers bloom in winter too
Your heart can bloom
through the darkest days too

I was grieving you
long before you left.
For weeks and months I cried,
bleeding until nothing was left.

Something was witnessing us die.
I kept asking for reassurance
you kept feeding me a lie.

I knew what was coming,
I couldnt stop myself from becoming.

What happened to coming together as two full individuals? What happened to honoring filling our own cup rituals?

You were puzzled,
finally found out.
The persona you kept playing to satisfy me, was breaking apart.

You no longer could hide,
you had to face yourself.
Been performing for so long,
you forgot who you were all about.

With that you could no longer face me, realising you had no restrain over me.

You knew it was coming and you didnt want to accept it.
So you rushed the decision before I could beat you to it.

A contract had ended,
Terms and conditions not met,
Long before you left.

I've never been good at pretending.
Never been good at hiding my joy and laughter, never been good at hiding my tears when I'm sad.

I cannot pretend to be alive. I am Here, ALIVE. I feel, I love, I break, I cry, I surrender, I emerge.

Life is fierce. When I love and when I hurt, it's fierce. Its my soul ripped wide open and raw. Its my whole heart on display. Its all I have and everything I know.