Sometimes she has imagined what it would be like to fly, to live in the river, to run like a horse. She has dreamed of that freedom, that power, and fears the wildness in herself that wants to live as beasts live, moved purely by need and desire. She has felt torn between the heat of her limbs and the thoughts in her mind telling her to be careful and good and always calm. Don’t scream or cry, don’t run to him and throw yourself at his feet, pleading for him to take you in his arms, don’t strip off your clothes and run naked to the water, wild with wanting. --Francesca Lia Block

What should I do about the wild and the tame? The wild heart that wants to be free, and the tame heart that wants to come home. I want to be held. I don’t want you to come too close. I want you to scoop me up and bring me home at nights. I don’t want to tell you where I am. I want to keep a place among the rocks where no one can find me. I want to be with you. --Jeanette Winterson

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tell me if this is all true: Listento the honeyed residue of beeswax,not so much to the wren’s... →

fluttering-slips:

Listen

to the honeyed residue of beeswax,

not so much to the wren’s song,
but to the pulse of its ochre colored belly,

to the weeping at the forest entrance,

to the clatter of crowds and plagues.

The earth is not speechless.
The trees forgive and outlive terror.

The…