Perfectly lined lips and polished hair,
Figure hugging dresses and long eyelashes,
They praised a put together face.
A quiet one.
A composed one.
Years and years of forcing into submission what was meant to exist freely.
I became a picture of something they wanted me to be.
Dulled out colors, no more dancing or singing, a stifled spirit.
But I am listening now.
A torn blindfold and an abandoned hand-sewn halo.
I am drawn to the odd, the strange, the ‘all encompassing’ or none at all, the deep, the free.
The incandescent flame that grows recklessly, unapologetically.
Through His eyes, I see into the dusty corners of my soul.
There exists an uninhibited nature.
Untamed,
wild,
messy,
unruly,
stubborn,
arresting,
beautiful.
There I am seen,
fully immersed as the hurricane that I am and still,
I am wanted.
He is the magnetizing muse that makes me ache for more.
The One that declares my smoke tells the story of my ashes and of His beauty.
Cosmically created,
Wild by nature.
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