Burning through my love is an art and a science
It’s beautiful experimentation
It’s passion without any pride
No shame in this girls love game!
It grows in my garden, among the weeds and one day lilly
It blooms like the creamer in my coffee every morning
It stirs like my parents fancy automatic mixer making Christmas cookies every December
It pounces on the shadows of leaves outside with my tired kitty
It bubbles up when you run out of OJ and start drinking champagne at brunch
It burns from the candle you use everyday, not the drippy candlesticks only pulled out for anniversaries.
My love isn’t special occasion love.