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.