A poem I wrote...maybe 4 or 5 years ago. I found it on the interweb, and decided to repost it.
To keep it alive.
I hear their bodies move, along with the crisp sheets.
As they change positions, they simultaneously pause.
The world fades away and they all of a sudden have the energy.
The energy to touch wings. Or was it mouths?
In the midst of a silent slumber.
The energy to take the time to slide their fingertips
along the others bare shoulder.
The energy to lift their lashes, just for a quick glimpse,
before sleepily pointing them back down.
All before fading back into their sweet, sweet dreams.
There is stillness.
They are still.
Their nectar drifts to my side of the room.
Seeing their sweetness puts me in a place that I have not been in a long while.
It brings a smile to my face and a flutter to my eye
But it also makes me realize:
I am alone.
I am the only one to manipulate these wings of mine.
How badly I wish you were here.
They spin and swirl in my abdomen, blindly mistaking my cavity for a way of release.
The only escaping them, those butterflies, is for this to morph into nothingness.
I am not there yet.
May I call you honey?
You say ‘we are bees’
But we are butterflies.
And I could never settle for anything less than butterflies.
When the next moon arises,
Will you please come over and ruffle my wings?
Tangle me and entrap me.
I would love nothing more
Than to get lost in this with you.
We could lose our color and our appeal,
The will of flight and the drive to pollinate.
We could change our names,
Just as they do.