Butterflies
they are a metaphor for the feelings i feel towards him
they dance and they flutter in my stomach, ticking my ribs and feeling the inside of my aching stomach.
because every time i see his face, it reminds me of why i want to be with him. when he smiles, when he laughs. it all reminds me of why i want to be there for him, why i need him in my life. why, when he chose me, there was nothing in my mind telling me no. when all these things should stop us from being together, they don’t seem to matter.
reminds me why in the first place, it was him i went running to. tears in my eyes, shaking body, all i wanted was to be in his arms. and welcoming, they were. strong and warm, holding me like it was what he wanted to do.
how his hands are so soft and gentle as they glide over my skin when we lie naked in his bed, naked in my bed. still gentle they are when he grasps my hand in public.
his demeanor is beautiful, everything about him is beautiful; much like the way i feel when he looks at me, when he kisses me. on my forehead, on my cheek, on my neck. in the morning, at night, in the middle of day. every chance that he gets, his lips are letting me know how he feels about me. and who is anyone to say what we’re doing is wrong, who is anyone to say that our happiness is wrong?
no one, because we’re broken. we’re battered and abused, but we can still find it in our hearts to care. to love.
and that might be soon. this all might be too soon.
but he holds me close and he breathes sanity onto my skin. he breathes happiness and he breathes comfort.
and me.
he breathes me.
and i breathe him.
together, we breathe.
together, we’ll get through,
absolutely everything.
because every time i see his face, it reminds me of why i want to be with him. when he smiles, when he laughs. it all reminds me of why i want to be there for him, why i need him in my life. why, when he chose me, there was nothing in my mind telling me no. when all these things should stop us from being together, they don’t seem to matter.
reminds me why in the first place, it was him i went running to. tears in my eyes, shaking body, all i wanted was to be in his arms. and welcoming, they were. strong and warm, holding me like it was what he wanted to do.
how his hands are so soft and gentle as they glide over my skin when we lie naked in his bed, naked in my bed. still gentle they are when he grasps my hand in public.
his demeanor is beautiful, everything about him is beautiful; much like the way i feel when he looks at me, when he kisses me. on my forehead, on my cheek, on my neck. in the morning, at night, in the middle of day. every chance that he gets, his lips are letting me know how he feels about me. and who is anyone to say what we’re doing is wrong, who is anyone to say that our happiness is wrong?
no one, because we’re broken. we’re battered and abused, but we can still find it in our hearts to care. to love.
and that might be soon. this all might be too soon.
but he holds me close and he breathes sanity onto my skin. he breathes happiness and he breathes comfort.
and me.
he breathes me.
and i breathe him.
together, we breathe.
together, we’ll get through,
absolutely everything.
