To my sweet wild woman, I know why it hasn’t worked out with anyone else—you don’t need a man, but a goddamn warrior.
You are the strength of Turkish coffee at sunrise darlin’ and don’t try to pretend that you’re not.
You are one of the wild ones, and no matter how you tried to hide that fact, you can’t be anything other than what you are—and that’s okay. You are just as you are supposed to be, magnificently wild in all of your chaotic beauty.
I know you’ve had your heart broken and I know that you don’t understand why it always seems to never work out, but I’ve finally figured it out:
You don’t need a man, you need a goddamn warrior.
It doesn’t matter if this warrior drives a Jeep or a shiny sports car, and it won’t matter if he wears silk or cotton—it will not…
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