her path is lonely.
She kneels in the dirt and pushes
her fingers deep into the earth
submerging all the points of her into it's pulse.

"let it be me" she whispers into the mist
and the forest groans in response,
breathing in her magic; her, a potion
of sea salt, crystals, and moon dust.

If emotion is nature, then she is their owner.
Caressing vulnerability out of places no one
cared for, inciting wild dreams and grasping on to love,
for those of you who find it far too heavy to carry.