butterflies

The morning I woke to you

my hand cupped on your shoulder

you sleep like a gentle gaint

breathing through your calmest nodes

             you never liked the sun too bright

I absorb,


as I take pride in your happiness





I remember how you kissed my forehead

manifesting the actions of love

onto a new found subject

skillful, you were


walls fall apart

I forgot of how to speak





that morning

our fields overlapped

you picked a flower from the ground

one that I told you about

hence one that I resemble in your faded shades


I wonder how much it came with a meaning

I wonder where they stood



pass and present juxtaposed with a tinge of newness

rebuilt, as we forget



I cannot recall

how nonsensical your speech sounded

before we get to move on to our preferred, comfortable zones








it then came back,

a dried, well kept flower

with a load of memories

recovered, like singing in the woods

I wondered again

how much was it traded for

to be again, manifested as a symbol of distinction



maybe that is what you were out for

and maybe, I was out roaming to be killed