Saturday, November 14, 2015

some yesterdays were like butterflies
I could not stay still enough
to tame into my hand
while others were hot breath too close
so that I had to turn to nothing
to slip through the strangulation 
of what I did not want to touch me
with the grease of fingerprints
of what wanted to mark me 
with the stain of memory

some tomorrows are like red balloons
filled with the ascension of hope
like my heart could float to another day
while others are prophesies 
of rubber limp and dead on sandy shores
waiting to be swallowed by the salty tides
to find their way inside the belly of the fish 
scaled with all my dreams

but these in between days
they are the sanctuary of where I find
the choice to love you now
in the moment of today
when a whisper is the kiss
of a kaleidoscope of butterflies
one and other after each
and silence is a place for me to fill
with my own breath
to watch just how a heart can grow
when it decides to love

and time is measured only in
how long a thought can last
of how the world could know such light
and then it starts again
as if the beginning swallowed the end
as manna to make it strong
and a single second could grow so deep
dreams could spiral upward
forever in the sun without the need to leave
the liquiblime cradle of where it draws its breath

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