With Love,

Carl Jung

This song gets me EVERY SINGLE TIME

For women who are tied to the moon, love alone is not enough. We insist each day wrap out knuckles through our heart strings and pull. The lows, the joy, the poetry. We dance at the edge of a cliff, you have fallen off. So it goes, you will climb up again you rare girl, once again, you have a body the belongs to no lover, to no father, belongs to no one but you. Wear your sorrow like the lines of your palm. Like a shawl to keep you warm at night. Don’t mourn the love that is lost to you now. It is a book of poems whose meters worked their way into your pulse. Even if it has slipped from your hands, it will stay in your body. -Anais Nin to Clementine Von Radics
When I was 18