Part Poetic, Part Primal

A pill, a choice, a change, a little spice, something new, something to do.

Darling, would you fly with me? I reach my hand out to her. I’m romancing her. I’m loving her. I’m falling for her. I’m loving her the way no one ever has. I’m loving her the way she deserves to be loved. I’m loving me where I am. I’m meeting me where I am. I’m correcting what I can. I’m reaching out to take my extended hand.

I’m in two places at once. I’m not warring with myself but romancing her. And part of that growth is calculated risks and risks without calculus—things I do on impulse when instinct takes over. I’m a modern lady and an uncivilized creature. I am both. I need my mind and logic, the magic of my creativity. I need impulse and caution and (w)reck(age)lessness.

I need the will to die just as I need the will to live. I dwell in dichotomy—it’s got a hell of a tongue and I like to be spread open and kissed on the necks of my demons.

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