Butterfly
is to say: "to be...
Bile rises in my throat -
Regurgitation...
Why must we always
pretend in order to be...
the absence echoes throughout this
self-inflicted desert, a wasteland of...
time has come to a rolling stop –
for this brief moment...
the whirling winds would settle
when i speak your name...
for far too long, i've dreamt of your fingers –
i’m intimate with the poetry they’re capable...
do you remember the first time i
penned you a poem, likening us...
you ask, what foods i crave?
you...
the clock takes to 4/4 time;
i'm here but rooted somewhere else...
there you were –
still casted in amber...
Without a conscience
there is no consciousness of beauty...