Butterflies.

She left me only with
awkward declarations.
Awkward declarations
that demanded that I
morph.
But I sit amidst transition
I give it to time.
This is not relaxation
this is a hardening heart
and a running mind.

She used to speak to
me
in a way
that squeezed my soul
a morning stretch
this is not
suffocation.
It was safety
laced with challenge.
A watering of roots
a growing of stems
we bloomed this way.

But as is her nature
she flew away.

And what we had before
we built among the
night watchmen.
We met
shovels in hands
bags of bones.
The corners of our mouths
pulled at the sky
corpses at rest among us.

We pulled skeletons
from closets
this isn’t what they
taught us
but this is what we
decided to learn.
We filled graves
with old bones
we buried pasts apart
and pasts together
throwing dirt
as if at play
we told secrets among
ears that lost themselves to death.

We felt we’d heal this
way.

But it was in her nature
and how I’d always known
we stood on hollow ground
the slightest stomp
by the lightest foot
vibrating the loudest sound.

We can’t mark the moment
but it was on some day
sirens went off
a breeze caught her wings
and she flew away.

Maybe these are
butterfly kisses.
They soothe your skin
slowly
warm you up
then in a moment
it ends.

I craved her warmth.
Her knowledge without
words.
But her transient being
could ever only be in motion.

There was a time where I fought
for her stillness.
It may have only lasted hours
but it felt like years.
In one breath
I could taste her
in the next
she disappeared.

Stillness
did not come easy
and I would never be enough
to keep her.

That was how I knew her
only through spurts.
She was frustrating like that.
A promise of answers
but I was never quick enough
to learn her lessons.
Then her lessons began to feel
like punishments.
As if I should have known them
on my own.
And maybe I always did
but it isn’t as enticing that way
where is the adventure?

I still plan to lure her
to have her sit with me.
I pretend I morphed like she always
wanted
but we both know
the truth is still deep in my bones
it’s buried like the others
but this coffin
I never closed.

Peering through a crack in the lid
I sensed a shift in energy
that stole the scenery
and I felt more alone
than before our introduction.
But that’s okay
I tell myself
really
we live and die like this.
The middle
only muddied with illusions.

It seems she knows this
departure
as never an accident
or bad timing
always
just a good choice.
She believes only in the beginning
and an end.
The middle
full of attempts to morph
ourselves
so that they may keep us.
But she doesn’t desire
being kept
and she won’t take you
for that very reason.

Though I could never accept it
I got used to her practice
where she would never stay.
I tried to tempt her with
my innocence
my pure desire for emancipation
but she could never be fooled
and as is her nature
she flew away.