You seek my sweetness, straight from my soul, as the salve for what makes you ache. You drink that heart honey until you are so full that it drips everywhere, leaving a sticky mess.
I gently begin to tidy up my cluttered heart, nurturing it with my own love and care; tender, but strong.
Photo by Dmitriy Nushtaev on Unsplash
For more self-study, The Urban Howl recommends Women Who Run with the Wolves
Sip a little more:
Ancestral Alchemy: Dance Until The Heartbreaks Of Our Ancestors Are Transformed
Shadow Salve
A Sweet Practice Of Breaking The Heart Open
