sjsprWriting

the butterfly who became a caterpillar

You told me stories in a language I didn't know. The words came out of your mouth like all those things that feel right. I wanted to speak like you; resented your ability to make hearts flutter. Because my words are shallow and your words sit in between your eyelashes. And I could say things that you want to hear, but I’m not going to. I’ll tell you about raw feelings and speak in a way that’ll make you realize the things you overlook. Maybe I want the hairs of your arms to stand up on their tiptoes. And so many people deserve so many things they don't have. And I was a fool, so wrapped up around those words you spoke in some native language I didn't understand because it was so much gentler. You saw me, bare and all, and you traced my naked heart with your fingertips. I once heard someone ask: When a caterpillar sees a butterfly, does it know? I wonder too, and I wonder if you know.