Friday, June 12, 2009
You are cunning, crafty, and far beyond wise.
When I look past your long, curling eyelashes I see an old soul, far older than my own, but one who is struggling to breathe.
Maybe you have become too old, and it's time for you to be laid to rest- or maybe, you are experiencing a new birth.
You hide from me very well, like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower and hiding behind leaves and petals- you are mysterious, always leading me on.
Hey boy, you have me in your hand, and breaking is unavoidable. You can't enchant a girl and then tell her to go away, it doesn't work that way.
Hey boy, I miss your liquid eyes and your funny hands and your words.
Your words, they are full to the brim of meaning and intuition and magic, and you spin them; sentence after sentence of magic. You let them dance around me for a while, so I could watch it reflect the sky, and then you pulled them away, leaving me breathless.
Come back, butterfly, your cocoon is far too warm and welcoming for it to be a challenge, and you cannot fly if you don't spread your wings.
You are far too honest, at times, as am I. You told me the truth, and I was left standing there waiting for your face to be close to mine, again, and for your breath to fall on my palm.
Come back, boy.
Flying away is sometimes easier than staying. Turning around is the hardest, sometimes.
You may find your biggest nightmare waiting, but you might also find life.
Hey boy, it's your turn to choose. Read this and think about it as you always do, and either write me a love song for the moment, or write me silence in the stars.
Carpe Diem doesn't mean not being scared of the moment, it means embracing the fear and the expanse of everything around you- maybe even me.
Butterfly, I'm sorry if I crushed your wings. I am thoughtless and I am hasty and I like to take more than to give.
Butterfly; boy, if you need to fly away, take my blessing with you, and if you want to remember me, please do.
Either way, butterfly, I'll remember you.