Love Letter to Love {and venus day lover's card throws}

{{glorious love story photos of me and my love, Danielle Cohen of Be Seen Photography.}}

Dear Love, 

You are not freedom.  You are bound up and shackles and cages with feathers + glitter that flies out with too heavy of a bass.  You are bravery and heartache and not giving a fuck.  Love, you aren’t trust or beauty or sure of anything.  You are just Love. Love, you are Love. And that my love, can be a shitstorm of everything. 

{Love, please bare with me so I can get the hard stuff out of the way first}. 

{Love, actually, it’s all hard stuff}. 

Sometimes I just don’t know what to do with you. 

Why do you allow me to travel effortlessly on your vortex to everywhere I want some days and on others I can’t catch a thermal to save my life and I fall, flat, bloody on the ground, devasted. Where the fuck did you go, Love?  And you don’t even offer me a hand. Jesus, Love.  A hand would be nice gesture. 

I know you want me to know that my own hands are strong enough to push myself up and that I don’t need your hands to lift me into life.  I get it.  But goddamnit, Love. Offer me a hand even if I don’t need it. Okay? Let me be the one to turn it down if I desire.  I know you think the best kind of You is the kind I can give myself. I get it. But just so you know, I like your hands, love. The are strong and soft and wartorn and true. And I like to know they are there for the grabbing.

I want to call you out, Love, on what I really think you are. You are nothing. And you are empty space. And you are every single particle between what is open and what is closed.  

Love, you are my breath.  

You are the only place I can breath freely and deeply in, and only space I can exhale so open and wide into. And Love, you are the place I can never find my breath. The place where I gasp for air, where I think I might suffocate. You are the one thing that makes me know I am alive and sometimes, Love, you make me feel like there is no life left in me.  Sometimes you make me want to die, Love, sorry but it’s true. 

And you know what Love? People try and tell me that can’t be love then. Love shouldn’t make you want to die.  But what I say to that is:  we define you, Love, only we know what you are. And If I am not willing to die for You, then what’s all worth anyway. 

Love, you are a bitch. 

A paradoxical bitch.  A dick. A whore. A cunt. You are Kali and Quan Yin. Your create me and you destroy me. And this makes me love you, Love, so much.  Because you make me feel all these things, everything there is under the sky and everything above it, too.  Love, you ain’t perfect and you so very much are perfect, imperfectly perfect for me. 

Do you remember the time I gave you the yellow part of my sun and that huge hunk of my moon and I said ‘take them, both of me, my crazy and my crazier, and do what you want with it”?   It was meant to be the best of me, all the places I cannot show to anyone else under the scattered stars, I can show to you, Love.  Thank you.  For seeing me in all of my wild places and for safe guarding those pieces I gave you back then, they are the treasure box of my heart and soul. Thank you for holding the key. Thank you for never giving them away, for keeping them our secret. Love you keep good secrets. 

Love, you aren’t more than me.  You aren’t less than me.  You aren’t even me.  I don’t know who you are but I know you are mine.  All mine.  And what a relief.  Love, do you think of me as yours? Tell me if you do.  Tell me how it makes you feel. How do I make you feel, Love? Do I get you like a volcano? Or do I bring you to tsumani? Am I all crazy making? Or weaver of what heals? Or do you not think like that? Because, afterall, you are Love and so all you feel is Love?

Love, what is your name?

I want to know your name? Your real name.  Not this four lettered word someone else made up for you. What is it? Whisper it to me tonight so that I can ink on the skin above my heart. Whisper it so I can be clear, so I am not so lost in definition and what it’s suppose to be and what is shouldn’t be and if it even exists.  If you tell me your real name, I know you are real. 

Also, would you die for me like I would for you? Can you help me clean up me messes, my melted wax, my ancient cracks, my whacked out DNA? Can you heal me love? Can you make me better than I was that moment that I took my first breath? That’s a hard one to beat, Love, but I want that. I want to be better than that.  And Love, I want you to bring me there, I want you to be the road I walk on, the lamposts along the way, the cool sips of water when it’s hot, the shelter of oak groves on nights I am too tired to keep going. 

Where do you get such power, Love?

You make me want to stay and you make me scared to go. Sometimes I think you are a selfish prick love and then sometimes, when I am crying, I can feel you catching every single salty tear and pouring them all back into the sea.  So that I can live there always, and she can be a part of me, and that she can know me as her own, because you know there is nothing more important than that for Love, to be part of what is Whole.  And I think, how can I mock you and call you names, Love? You are the purest form of existance that I know.  You are all I know. You know all. 

Don’t get me wrong.  You aren’t easy.  And I want to kick your ass.  And sometimes I wish you weren’t even born.  There. I said it. Now let’s move on. 

Love, you are not for the weak and yet you are so for the weak and the strongest ones might even need you the most.  I am strong, too strong, and I need you more than ever now to make me weak in the knees and soft in the heart. 

Thank you love, for all the times you have let me roll over on you and held my weight. Thank you for letting me squish you all night long.

Love, you are past midnight, that time when all things open up and the veil lifts and we can finally see what’s on the other side.  And you are also that graywash of dawn, the promise of what can be here and now, no other side, just this side of love, Love.

Love, I adore your darkness

Because in that darkness, the moody, wild darkness, there is the most sensual hope of Light. 

Love, you are Light, and I do mean the Christ kind, the sacred sun kind, the one who is born as prophet and sage and shaman, hands on your skin and - amen! you are healed kind. That is you, Love. Love you have been eternal redemption since the beginning of time because you know that fucking up is inevitable and to love is to fuck up.  You can’t have one without the other, right?  The more we fuck up the more we love. 

{and in my humble opinion, the more we fuck the more we love, too, right Love?}

Love when I am hungry, you are the recipe, and the stock, and the heat underneath.  Thank you for letting me burn you in the rusted old cauldron that sits on my hearth.  I get distracted and I get involved in so many things and there you are, making us a nourishing brew and I forget about you, I turn my back and smoke fills the house.   I am so sorry love.  I cannot promise I won’t forget about you again.  I probably will a million more times.  But when I do remember, I come running back, and we begin again.  

The best thing is that you taste so much better every time we begin again.  You taste good and you stick to my bones. 

Love, I wish I wasn’t so wound up and stressed out. If only I could be you and do you all the damn time.  I can be a restless coward and I am sorry.  I am sorry, Love,  that I don’t hold you as I should.  It’s just that I am scared to hold you too tight and I am scared to let you go.  I am scared you will say no to me. I am scared you will never return.  That you won’t choose me.  Please remind me agian, how endless and forgiving you are, Love. I need to know. 

Love, you have taught me how to to walk closer to me.  Even when I wanted to walk closer to you, you let me see that the closer I am to me, the closer I will be to you. 

Love, really what I wanted to let you know was that I choose you harder and stronger.  I am not sure what’s going to happen, but can we ever be sure? I don’t know if you will be here tomorrow or if I will want you around me next moon.  Sometimes it’s just like that Love, you make my skin crawl and other times I will drive at ridculious speeds to find you and undress with you and lay down with you and shut the shades and make sure there is nothing left but my skin against yours,  Love.  Me and you, Love, all alone, together. 

Love you, Love. Always and forever.  Thank you for being my guide. 


* * * 

Dies Vienes. Lover's Throws. Every Friday. 

There are never any real answers with love. Love is the question + the answer. But I am happy to use my cards to help you form your Lover's story, to deepen your questions and to validate your knowing.  

Every Dies Veneris, Friday, the day that Venus looks over, with all her love and beauty and power, I will be offering THREE {only 3} Lover's Throws. These readings come with all things helpful around finding love, understanding love, calling out for love, asking what love wants of you and what you need from Love.  

You can share with me your experience, your seeking, your concerns, and we will do a very specific Love throw to help you form your deep lover's story + create a love spell for your intentions. This doesn't just have to be a throw regarding you and other's.  This is about the self and our own relationship and healing with love, Love as an energy and experience, self-love, partner-love, and universal-love. All of it: Love. If you want to be scheduled for a Lover's Throw, please send funds to the paypal link below and email me at with your specifics and I will respond letting you know which Friday you are scheduled for. Each reading is $100 and can be done via written PDF, Phone or Video. Because of the energy of Venus- Friday is a *very* powerful day to do this work.