Sunday, March 2, 2014

It Felt Like Summer

Was it too soon? Let's put it this way; I've been known to jump to conclusions far too soon in the past, so what was different about it this time? ....The sleeping butterflies.This time, they woke up.In unison with the utterance of the phrase, they flapped through my ribcage, passed up my throat and flew out of my mouth. They're awake, and when they hear it whispered in my ear they flutter around each other for a brief moment.It has always been a mind body duality; where one wants to believe something but the other part just won't follow suit. So you convince yourself, you act the part, you do it all and on cue too. Then you find yourself, not too far after the fact, cursing his name and repelling the day you met. Cause that wasn't love. That was a lonely coward trying to get with a girl who was just not his type. Shadowed by poetry and July and far too much wine.  It was an idea-and you can't fall in love with an abstract like that.And the mice that came after that....fools. Stimulated by liquor and ass, incapable of conversations about anything other than them. A futile existence that never lasted until the morning. Finally I can look back on it and laugh- cause it's over and it's nothing more than vague, dimly lit memories that occupy a small corner of my mind.The red and ivory butterflies stirred around when I didn't accidentally say it the first time. My chest continues to erupt like a volcano- ceasing to stop, a cold heart has turned into hot molten lava in the center of my body.Of 7.2 billion people, I met you on a drizzly day in January.