Butterflies.
They move up and down, in and out.
My stomach clenches as I start
To speak. In my wildest dreams I
Have done just this, though I know how
It will end. I wish to tell you
All I feel and all I don't, in
Time you shall know that when I glance
At what I hope is my future,
The only words that cross my mind
Are I love you. Yet all that does
Cross my lips is Hi. . .
They fight and push and pull and tug
Me toward you. This time my mind
Will speak, and my lips will hush. In
-Silence. . . I walk back to my home
And retreat in a state of child-
Like embarrassment. There is no
Response. The butterflies leave
And I sit there, remembering
Their power and force in my move.
I transition to a world of
Unaccompanied sorrow filled
with shame.
Net.
kalel_watercurrent Community Member 
|
|
