Dragonhearts

by Nikita Gill

what does being a dragonheart mean to you?

having flames in your veins

loving fiercely / strong-spined / dangerous

queen of your own life

facing the fire head-on

story-hungry / made of gold

RELEN...

got complacent and called it love

in the end, / i was the one who climbed the pile of the fallen, / took hold of a bloodied sword, / slashed open both our chests, / & placed its heart right beside mine— / my prize. - dragonhearted. by amanda lovelace

nyx herself created you from her mother chaos, sent you down to earth to show the world how courage lives even in places you least expect it. you are a fire crafted from goddess hands.

so when they tell you that you are weak or small or something insignificant, know this: you could win even mythological battles with your ferocity. - you predate athena.

Who says that princesses cannot be wolves and that women must be light without a shadow? Maybe a witch is just a woman who knows how to harness her powerful voice.

Silence is not the price you have to pay for your survival anymore. Speak. Scream. Roar.

no sword necessary.

be both regal & terrifying.

Rebel soft. Steel and Saponaria. Honey-tongued and unapologetic.

who said you can’t wear a flower crown & still remain a fearsome thing? - make persephone proud.

Never stopped to wonder why my life needed to be great and couldn’t just be lived.

don’t wait for anyone to decide that you’re enough. you’ve endured every minute up until now—isn’t that just remarkable?

in this story, the princess gives up her title & trades it in for warrior; by her definition, someone who fights for the good of themselves & only themselves.

once in a while, someone comes along who tells us life is so much more than just existing.

I’m not ready for you to see me bleed. I’m not ready for you to know I am a fallible thing.

my loyalty to you is not something you can spell out of thin air with a rose quartz & a pink candle.

I used to only pick up a pen for myself but now I pick one up for you too.

Is there such a thing as an unselfish love poem? I don’t know, but I’m trying.

I built a world where no one could keep up with me. I made a myth out of myself in my youth and spent the rest of my life trying to claw my way back.

dreamt of princesses and spywork.

I dreamt of warriors and then I grew into one. I

All my childhood heroes lived on the page. Now they live in me.

Why We March, We Cry, We Protest To all the little girls out there: we will set fire to this world that steals your childhoods, rips away your choices and voices, and stops you from being everything you want to be, and build you a better one from the embers, the kind of world that treasures you for all your powerful capabilities.

I tried for years to find my way into magical worlds. Now I just try to weave magic into this one.

i am never alone when i have you.

She never tells me that my ghosts aren’t real.

you are my favorite spellbook. - all of your pages are bewitching.

she knows i’ve got this.

we’re powerful all on our own; as one, something to warn others about.

This is what covens will do: protect each other from the world, for this is what sisters do.

You say, you’ll get somewhere else. There are so many other things to be.

remember that you don’t need this ritual to experience self-love; the magick is already inside you.

“they don’t know that you are the sea & the sea takes shit from no one.”

This is how I see my sisters. Pure as fire, the greatest wealth I could ever know, finally, finally, bringing me home.

My heart is as vast and deep as the fucking ocean and I deserve better than lovers who fear drowning.

When she lets her hair loose and wears her anger like a crown, her rage rivals that of gods. So does her tenderness. Both are allowed to coexist in the same body loudly and without shame.

So we weren’t made for each other and we found each other anyway. Isn’t that stranger? Isn’t that better?

Look how my love for you makes things grow.

In another life, I might have named a sword after you, an axe or a bow. I might have drawn blood for you and enjoyed it.

On the page there is always a place for us. No oceans to stand in the way. No distance to cross. This isn’t why we write but it’s part of it. A place for our ivyhands to finally stop reaching. Here, we wind our words together until no one can tell our stories apart.

Come and see how I have tamed the monster that once tried to kill the good in me.

The truth is, everyone has either loved a monster or been one, and sometimes both. There is nothing more dangerous than the thing that lives inside of you, waiting for love to wrong you, waiting to make prey out of someone else.

We all have it in us to be monstrous and there is still no excuse for monstrosity.