I can never decide if I wear my heart on my sleeve or if I bury deep with the recesses of my chest. Past the bones and the marrow. Wrapped up in skin. I guess it depends on the moment.
I am not a thesaurus type of person. Red is red damn it. Don't confuse me with big fancy words. Get to the point. Talk down to me like I am a three-year-old with a box of eight chunky crayons. There is no scarlet in that box. No ruby. No crimson. Just red. Plain old red. And blue and yellow. And green. Red.
I listen to this song called 'How to Grow a Woman From the Ground." It is the most lovely song. It's about love and blood. It's about growing a woman from the dirt, dirt that was turned to mud by his blood. Or so I believe. Or I like to think. I am a girl and a romantic and no matter how much I want to believe I can do anything and everything all on my own I still want a man to lay on the ground, turning it to mud with his blood and watch me grow from that ground.. It's a beautiful thing for a person to do. Is that a lot to ask?