“So much of what they called femininity— was actually survival in pretty packaging. We smiled to stay safe. We softened to be palatable. But what happens when softness becomes a choice, not a shield? What does it mean to be a woman who no longer performs her presence, but truly inhabits it?”
Why opening our hearts despite past wounds may be the bravest form of loving.
A mystery I've solved in part, yet never truly reach...
We text like we are okay, when our lives are on display..
Like you were made for gentle things...
Am I asking for the moon or just a moment in your light?
You’re the ache that lingers, in the spaces between thoughts...
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