“I want passion so strong
That it makes me wanna cry
I want nothing short of
Yeah butterflies
I’m sorry it took me so long
To figure out I’m worth it ”

“Butterflies” by Rissi Palmer

[I’ve spliced this song some kinda bad but it works for my purposes and I guess I figure if I credit it, it’s all good. I know how music works to say exactly what you are thinking when words just don’t seem to have your address. For me, it’s country and I’m happy it’s there for me to call on.]

We talk about butterflies almost everyday:

Me: “Are they there?” You: “My butterflies haven’t gone anywhere.”

You: “Are yours still there?” Me: “Yes.”

You: “I like knowing they are still aflutter.” Me: “mmm…”

We talk about Butterflies. As though if we don’t talk about them they will suddenly disappear. Truth be told, I can’t eat or sleep well with these butterflies. Fluttering every which way at the slightest touch of the memory chord. The slightest thought of you.

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