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Creative storyteller with passion for art & connection. Portland, Oregon.


Our love isn't a sweeping declaration of eternal love,

or a promise to disappear into a life of never-ending sacrifice.

It’s presence.

It’s our willingness to sink deep into our valleys and walk together in our shadows,

to show up for each other’s brightness and remain us:

the sun to my moon,

the pine to my sycamore.

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moths to a flame.

they say for women we forget some of our deepest pain and that must be true because it feels like i have amnesia when it comes to you never remembering the recurring heartbreak until it's impending, d

let me nestle in the space under your collarbones

i'd crawl underneath your skin, nestle in the space underneath your collarbone or snugly between your ribs watching your heart beat hoping to understand you better i'd see the world through your eyes

love at 20.

closer pull me in closer crush me with the weight of your expectations my expectations the roles we're supposed to play but forget that now pull me in fall faster deeper let me feel the fullness of yo


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