And no matter how I am showing up in those moments, light or dark, I embrace and hold safe and sacred all of the pieces I trusted others with for so long.
Patterns are the only way I can be clear with someone’s romantic intentions with me. Words are like threads, and the spinning of the loom like behaviors.
Love is not secrets and games... Love does not enter into relationship with falsities and masks, for it knows it cannot possibly blossom in toxic soil.
This isn’t a letter to 'forgive' anyone, for I believe that you taught me valuable things. But isn’t it time to release old ways of relating to each other?
My worth is determined by me. Society does not get to define my beauty... I love everything this body does for me, oftentimes without my conscious effort.
I want that passionate kind of love
That honest kind of love
That 'make love to me in the middle of the night' kind of love
I want that sensual kind of love