"Butterflies and Glow Bugs"A Poem by PoeT4994I got on a string of writing really, pretty, dreamy stuff. And, it's almost all about love.
She said I look like
roses.
I said she smells like she likes to lay with me. She, is the razor to my slit leg. And the red to my blood. She is the eye in my heart that only lets me see the good stuff. Something like an echo splashing into the cusp of a river. She makes my dreams crumble into the brim of their sanity. Like that white dove shuffling in the tree outside of my bedroom. I said she feels like an angel. She says I sound like her halo’s reverberation. I think we’re both full of crap. But sometimes that’s all right. If you ask me, all times, that’s all right. And if you look at me, you’ll see...I don’t know. Ask her. She calls me nothing short of something. But she calls me nothing more than just right. She says I am the skeleton with no backbone, a chiseled mess of perfectly flawed, and a whole bunch of nothing. She says I speak like God shouldn't, and I cry like angels want to. I feel like porcupine, and I touch teddy bear, but no matter what she cries. I make her sad when I'm sad, I lie when I'm happy. She is a stones throw from my imagination, and a few moons away from my feet. A field and a half is all it takes in my dreams for us to meet. I always ask her why she sniffs me like tulips do the air when they first bloom. She says “It’s because I love you.” And we lay, with the glow bugs enveloping our skin, by this time we’ve plucked the butterflies from our stomachs and threw them into jars along with the glow bugs. Now we watch as they flutter in raves. We just sit and feel the moment. Teetering around itself and us. Ready to crash at any second. The walls bleed white. My eyes, fade black. I am laying in my room, half asleep. Searching the covers for any hint of truth. Once again, all I do is find a butterfly. I put it in an enclosure, with the other 58 frickin’ butterflies I found in my sheets. Every day she says she found another glow bug and rose petal. We just laugh, we don’t have the heart to tell each other the truth. That we are more than a dream to each other. But we both know one day, that we’ll let our butterflies and glow bugs roam in raves, for real this time. © 2010 PoeT4994 |
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Added on July 7, 2010 Last Updated on July 7, 2010 Author
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