The butterflies aren't dead

A celebration of small details

I'vent fathomed anything called love
After and in between
The hide and seek
You and I play.
Intricate sand castles
On the sea shore you see?
I put a gentle curtain over them
So you don't see.
I relentlessly build them up.
Like a big ocean wave
You tirelessly wash them away
Not even seeing what they are.
I have butterflies
On each encounter
On each gaze I lay upon you.
But the butterflies then
Eat the flesh out of
My dead putrified body.
They say ideal atmospheric pressure is 1
But the pressure exceeds beyond
When your bare body touches mine
Weighting me down
In the land of sensations
Temptations,limitations and unquenchable thirst.
Walking on grass
After the rain
The soft tender soulful
Celebration under the feet
Your wet hair
After the godly mingling
Of water drops kissing
Every nook and corner
Of your body
Blessed the hands
Which caressed them through
While you were
wrapping me with
All your being.
Did I tell you
I've been collecting all the threads of nights
Flooded with red lights
Soothing music
Enchanting scent
Hazy smoke
Subjugation
Authority
And much more.
I will weave a blanket
For days of cold
When you won't be there.
Bits and fractions
Nothing to be left
Or how will I cover
One lifetime of
Draught and dearth
Love and not love.

Author's Note

What I mean by godly mingling is taking shower and this poem is more about the ambiance of a mating rather than mating itself,more like a one sided celebration where the simple small sensations are magnified.