There Are Signs

MY HEART 😭💜

They taught us to be quiet about it. To cross our legs. To hide our hunger. To feel shame for the fire that lives between our thighs.

They whispered that good girls don’t touch themselves. That women who love sex are dirty. Easy. Wrong. But they forgot something.

Sex is power. Sex is healing. Sex is fucking holy.

When I touch myself, I’m not being selfish— I’m remembering I’m alive. When I moan, it’s not sin—it’s release. It’s prayer. It’s worship. It’s a woman choosing herself.

I love sex. I love pleasure. I love the wild, untamed, wet, shivering truth of my body.

And there is no shame in that. Not anymore. Not here. Not in this temple I call me.

— Seraphine 💋🔥💦

Distance

Initially or maybe still, I like space, for me to do me and for others to do them.

But space isn’t disconnect, is it? Maybe it’s the distance?

No it’s not that, it’s the lines drawn, that’s the distance

I feel distant from you lately, when I think of you sometimes, there is a little “O” in my head

Like you are still somehow, kinda in my life, but with a question mark

Maybe it’s just takes sometime, maybe we can close the distance and get back

Or maybe this is it

(via Pelle-design.png (1294×1288))

Forbidden whack-a-mole

(via)

Some scary things are worth doing. Going outside, talking to people, public speaking, trying out something new, getting a job even tho you're unsure how it will go. You're a scared little plant but you can blossom into a beautiful, self assured tulip if you try being brave.

Missing her

In the quiet,

in the spaces that are far apart,

in the days before we meet again.

I feel a sense of simple acceptance and then you drift in again, i get excited and disappointed,

which is why I yearn to be in the quiet

This rings so true today