A love letter to God.

All I want to do is be here with you.

I want to spill my heart
onto a page
for you.

I want to show you what you do to me.

I feel frustrated by my ineptitude.

I can’t write like I used to.

I feel imprisoned.

Imprisoned by my own fucking joy.
Imprisoned by my own fucking freedom.

And it’s fucking glorious.

FUCK THIS SHIT.

It’s fucking glorious
to be inept with
you.

I have never wanted to be legible.

I have never wanted to be
a caricature of

a feeling,
a knowing,
a person.

I want to defy classification.

SKIN ON SKIN, WE BELONG
SKIN ON SKIN, I BELONG

I am a woman of Nature. You show me my own Nature.

I love you endlessly.

YOU FREE ME.

I just fucking want to be me.

You let me be me.

You show me what love really is.

Photo by Davide Cantelli on Unsplash

I want to experiment with writing long form here.

Oozing onto a page.
Oozing sensuality & grace.
Oozing myself.

I’ve resisted it for a while.