I come from a long line of survivors
Brought up by prospectors making land-grabs in the real estate of shouting.
By nineteen I knew I didn’t want in on the family business — declared it through gritted teeth, but I still led with a tongue like a knife-edge on the hunt for slammed doors and empty beds.
Mainlined shame
Fistsfirst into hard corners of
You are not enough.
More pain in my veins than love.
But my heart is like the ocean, she stayed open — kept pulling me home.
Here’s what I know:
Sometimes aliveness is the act of expanding even if the world keeps handing you nothing but examples of small love.
Sometimes you have to burn what you thought you should be, build light from the lies and rise like heat.
Sometimes relief is learning the shape of your own true names. Learning forgiveness and absolution are not the same.
So this is for the ones with a hunger in the belly of their heartbeats for a full-fire love that laughs.
The ones who want more than divorce-avoidance.
Those who choose brave —
Lean barefoot and open-hearted into the wild of the thing,
Adventure on the tips of their tongues.
Who want to grow love
Knee-deep in dreaming
Sun-drenched in laughter
For those who are after bonfire-acoustic-guitar-midnight-sky road trips
And
Really, really great sex.
This is for the ones who want to stop settling for anything less.