Do not try to clean up her messes. Relinquish the need to keep all of the shelves stocked with everything standing neatly in its place. She does not need you to replenish her cupboards; she needs you to pour into her soul. That is what she will ask of you time and time again. That sometimes insatiable and often maddening hunger for her soul to be feed is what has driven many lovers before you away; she is a ravenous beauty and a deeply rooted beast.
Get comfortable with paint splattered on the walls and wine staining the bottom of the glass and lights that stay on until 2 a.m. Let go of the need for a normal kind of life. An autopilot kind of life. A bottom line kind of life. A “honey-I-made-your-coffee-just-right” kind of life. Do not ask her when she’s coming to bed.
She will come to bed. Eventually. When she does, she will wrap herself in you like headphones tangled in keys at the bottom of a purse–inadvertently, recklessly, a labyrinth of your bodies like she never even left.
Resist the urge to sling words like “sensitive” or “emotional” her way as insults. The world demonizes too many of us for what are simple displays of sheer humanity. Reward her with kisses on the nape of her neck for being one of the courageous few to strip herself of the facade.
Drop the cape. She does not seek salvation; she seeks purpose. Identity. A place in the world that she can unabashedly call her own.
Proceed with caution. She will not hand out points for showmanship or slick lines. Take everything you’ve ever learned about how to woo a woman and hurl it out the window. Let her peel back your layers. Be brave enough to peel back all one thousand of hers.
Remember she is not glass; you can hold her tightly. Despite what history might dictate, she will not shatter. Kiss her scars for good measure. Lick her wounds with fervor. Run your fingers over the burns of her past. Taste every story still standing on her skin. Read every poem still being written from her sin.
Teach yourself not to be afraid of the dark. She gives birth to her most striking art in the darkest places under the dimmest bulbs.
And when she shows all of her colors and emits all of her light, do not ever be afraid of that either. Stand in her sun; soak up her rays. Recognize the exquisiteness of her spectrum.
Love her because she is equal parts whiskey and wine. Love her because she is both a mess and a Mona Lisa. Love her every time she pulls you apart and puts you back together again. Love her when you’ve run out of words. Love her when she’s run out of words. Love her urgently. Unforgettably. Undoubtedly. Paint her in the watercolors of your adoration. Love her because if you dare to love this artistic woman, you may be the first person to ever love her the way she’s craved her entire life. Love her because if you dare to love this artistic woman, your love story will become the kind of masterpiece she couldn’t have ever crafted alone.