My tongue is in my hand…

Butterflies

Posted on: March 16, 2011

I don’t think I’ve seen you look at me like that before. It’s ruminating in my mind’s eye. You said something soft and quiet with that and I’m letting it lay across me, like a dozen butterflies. I am breathing gently. I don’t want to disturb this delicate balance we work out when we work it out.

________________________

You’ve got to feel the waves emanating from me. Do you let them wash over you? Do you drink them in? I think you do. I see your eyes close. I think perhaps we don’t need words. At least not here.

But the moment our bubble breaks I am full of all the millions of letters that never made their way out to you. Do you have enough to tie you over? Do I?

I make enough I suppose, I make enough.

_____________________________

Alternately, there’s that primal need, that wildness as you say. There is no right or wrong or anything beyond this need. This need is the absolute only thing that exists. It is upon this need that the whole world spins. You and I, we are happy and helpless in it. It moves us to mesh and it is only there that there is rest. It is only there that there is the peaceful satisfaction of all things being aligned as designed. It is only in that moment that I am not hungry, that I am not lonely, that I am home.

_________________________________

I believe in strings. I’m starting to believe our strings connect at either end. I believe this is beyond us as much as this is us. This is defining our definable moments without our consent. We are artists, but this is not our piece of art. We are the materials here, you and I. We are at the mercy of the constructor of this. We are one string. We can wrap around and weave into and through a million other parts of this, but I’m starting to doubt that we can really separate.

___________________________

If I gave you these words: you, alive, home,connected, promise, need, trust, safe, passion, determined, scared, hungry, only, me,  forgive, try, hope, believe: would you know what I mean?

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1 Response to "Butterflies"

…oh?

What happened, kiddo?

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