
I am not warm, I am searing hot, I am the center of a volcano, I am enough to carve homes in rock. I am not warm, I am not for you to sleep nestled against after limping back from your last failure, I am not your safety net. I am not your blanket. I am not your mother. I am a thousand poems and earthquake kisses and big laughing, I am the moon and I am smooth whiskey, and I am the pages of burned books, and I am thick, whipped honey.
… with yourself. you can’t love yourself and love people who hurt you. it doesn’t work that way. you love yourself enough to do away with any relationship that disrupts your peace. destroy this idea that your life and it’s quality is completely reliant on the bonds you have with …