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“could you love her, still… when she's not only soft in your arms but when she's wild with the moon and restless… and maybe just a little out of reach from your fingertips. could you love her, still, when she's not only sweet and resting easy on your chest, but when she's wild blossomed in the night and searching for more inside of herself than who you may think she is. could you love her not just when she's flowers but when she's fire. she has to know… if she lets you close… when she blooms wild and burns bright… could you love her, still.” — butterflies rising
could you
love her, still…
when she's not only
soft in your arms
but when she's wild
with the moon and restless…
and maybe just a little out of reach
from your fingertips.
could you love her, still,
when she's not only sweet and
resting easy on your chest,
but when she's wild blossomed in the night
and searching for more inside of herself
than who you may think she is.
could you love her
not just when she's flowers
but when she's fire.
she has to know… if she lets you close…
when she blooms wild and burns bright…
could you love her, still.