Girls who love hard.
They see the world differently that’s why they are so Timeless.
I can’t think of a time in a relationship my soul loved holding back. Each time the intensity of emotions has been an epiphany. And although some view love as a weakness — I believe love cant be your weakness if its form is your essence.
When love drives you; the love in you cannot be tamed. It may be silenced, dismissed, ignored but it will still howl like a lion inside of you. Girls who love hard carry around a heart that is sealed with a divine covering. You can’t get in unless you are a lover yourself.
My Royal Chambers.
I’m asleep but my heart is awake, racing. My chest is swollen like two fountains on a ridge. There’s wetness in my hair and my whole body is drenched in dew, resting naked and unafraid.
If your heart desires a man, your body will rise to the occasion and dress itself for the moment. Flowing and swaying to the rhythm of his touch. As his embrace firms like a rock that can’t be swept away by wild waters.
And even though love-making is only a shadow of love's full proportion, giving yourself away to someone you don’t crave —is like wasting a hundred dollar bill on a meal you won’t delight in.
Love runs wild.
What is love if I can’t bleed a bit? Like a lily among thorns, so are lovers among the loveless —roaming about like sheep waiting to be slaughtered. Yet not strangers to slitting others either. Wild love is like watching a fool’s tale of ‘Escapades of the Heart’.
I’m not proud to say; I have dragged gentlemen around only to drop them as though It was a final rose ceremony of the Bachelorette. I have hastened intimacy just because I felt ignited. I’ve hurt people who deserved love and loved people who deserved bruises.
As soon as we banish the facade that there’s a love that exists that doesn’t have bleeding then we will love like the heart never ached. With a natural rawness, emitting an internal purity not limited by past cycles in a world polluted with conformity.
Moving in her essence
She explores piles of hearts searching for a home for her kind. Though she may stumble on infatuations and gloomy stories of toxic love, she bleeds yet remain aroused.
I see loving hard as an intimate choice. No one teaches you how to love like you. It’s an inborn instinct. A heart transaction. A spirit sanction. To choose to see the world through your eyes—and accept the unique lens through which your soul vibrates with love.
I like to love someone as though I’m digging holes through their soul. In search of little new ounces of love, I didn’t understand before. To discover a treasure I can’t steal but can bask in.