I’m realizing something about myself that feels important to name. Creativity and intimacy live very close together in my body. When someone meets me in a creative space, when they see my work, reflect it back to me, build alongside me, or feel inspired by my inner world—my nervous system reads that as closeness. Warmth. Safety. Meaning. And sometimes, my body translates that feeling into romance. Not because I’m confused. Not because I’m lonely. But because creativity has al

There is no shame in non-monogamy. Let me begin there, clearly and without hesitation. For some, it is an intentional, ethical, and deeply honest way of loving. When chosen consciously, it is not confusion. It is clarity. It is spoken early. Named directly. Held with responsibility. And that distinction matters. Because what I have witnessed, both in my own life and in the lives around me, is that confusion is often mislabeled as freedom. Sometimes what looks like openness is

There is a quiet that comes after something beautiful ends. Not the loud kind of heartbreak. Not betrayal. Not chaos. Just a soft closing of a door you were beginning to walk through. And somehow that hurts in a deeper place. Because nothing went wrong. Because it was gentle. Because it was real. Because I felt it. I keep thinking about the path that led here. How Soft Wanting arrived first. That delicate curiosity. The kind that does not grab or demand, only notices. Then c

There is a kind of desire that does not whisper. It announces itself loudly in the body. Heat pooling. Breath shortening. Attention narrowing. It aches. It asks. It presses. A sexual tension so tender it feels sharp. I am here now. Wanting someone so intensely it feels almost urgent. Wanting touch, closeness, release. Wanting in a way that could easily collapse into momentum if I let it. And still, I am here, choosing not to rush. Not because I doubt my desire. But because I

(for healing, attraction, renewal, and reclamation) There comes a moment when the heart grows tired of waiting for someone else to see its light. So you turn inward. You gather the pieces of yourself scattered in other people’s hands. You remember that you are the altar, the offering, and the answered prayer. This spell is for that moment, when you’re ready to release what hurt, reclaim your softness, and return your power to its rightful place: with you. I lost the most imp

(There’s a version of self-love that isn’t loud or performative — it’s quiet, grounded, and honest. It doesn’t always glow; sometimes it sits in silence, sometimes it sheds, sometimes it simply breathes. This reflection is about that kind of love — the one that grows from tending, trusting, and returning to yourself, over and over again). Self-love, for me, has become less about the grand gestures and more about the rhythm of my days. It’s the quiet rituals that bring me home

Before the ceremony, I told my therapist that I felt it was time to release Michael. He agreed. He said keeping him in orbit, even from a distance, isn’t good for either of us. It delays the work we both need to do. And I knew he was right. Allowing small pieces of connection to linger kept me tied to an old version of love. It felt tender, but it wasn’t healing. So tonight, I honored that truth. I blocked Michael, then I lit two candles -- pink for me, purple for him (I mea

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