It’s romantic enough to get the chills all over my skin and remind me of how my every pore counts and deserves to feel it.
Love comes with adventures. Flavors and experiences.
To know love is to know pain disappointment and hardship.
To stand back up and continue to.. love. Not by replacing myself with changes or looking for approval in others but by growing my consciousness, my practices, my own love.
Even our sex life, the calmness and the constant rushing.
I miss the family I didn’t think I wanted before, until I met them. Gosh I miss them!
He so simply took it all and threw me away with some money..
I get so angry at myself for missing the “narcissistic” man that dismissed me.
I miss the wrinkles of his neck; I use to think that those wrinkles were the last ones I would kiss when we got older together.
He was my one and only; he hated that.
He fulled me before, why will I think that he wouldn’t do it again?
Why did I think that I was special to him?
When I saw pictures of the same poses with just different woman for years. I thought that I could be the last one. His one and only.
That was foolish of me.
“I most of done something right to deserve you”… he sang to me.
Convinced me into many things that I doubted.
Like marriage, prenuptial agreements, choosing his last name so I felt part of his family; I guess that when you can buy it all, nobody else really matters.
“It’s as easy as just changing the meaning, the face, the body and replace it all. Put some pigtails on some cat ears and voilà.” New amazing adventure.
Propagate story’s for the followers and move on.
-Really???
I miss that man, who showed me his heart and opened up his deepest shames.
I miss the man who stabbed my heart and thought me to be tougher.
I miss the man who tried to build our dream home. It’s all I ever truly wanted. Was that also a lie?
I miss the man who pushed me to get back into doing the things I love.
The way you hold my hand through places I haven’t walked before activates some sort of safety.
Thank you.
My good good friend,
The way you receive me when my heart crashes it’s lovely, tender, quiet, timeless…
Friend,
The way you receive me when I’m in ecstasy, it’s a salvage childish current of joy that other people can’t help but to add on to the flow when we display it in public.
It’s just as memorable when it’s just the two of us.
I tasted the roots of the Incas; 1000s of days and nights have crowned the Inca’s bodies and now mine.
We have walked by this herbs that cured villages from the mildest of the cold’s to spiritual healing, this mix of carefully distilled roots it’s a master sacred beverage for me.
The color was just like earthy water. Mud. Redish and dark brown, simple yet specific ingredients.
The moment this earth liquid entered my body, my soul and the spirit of my body greeted each other with a tremendous amount of love that tears of awe came out. It was so familiar and safe to be reunited, like if they where waiting for this moment to happen from many days and nights.
It moved me so much, I thought that I had tasted the flavor of connection.
The memory of the taste gifted me an experience in Perú that it’s embalmed with me, like the scars of my lovely body.