I write about fire as if I’ve breathed it. I love every version of myself because she is true. She is a force. She cares. She fucking cares. She cares so much.

And when I pray – I ask for forgiveness for giving too much of myself. Then I think, isn’t that the whole point?

None of it makes sense, you know. All the sadness that holds such weight on our spirits. I guess breaking is a choice after you bend too far. To let it all crumble- or to carry it with grace.

I’m somewhere in between. Holding sparks under my tongue- thinking I can breath fire into every cold part of peoples hearts. Maybe I can. We’re all here for the taking. And you hold a match too, right? -AMT©️