chasing butterflies
Mallorca - 2018
“You’re chasing butterflies.”
That’s what he told me.
Am I being insulted?
Is my guilt scolding me?
“You’re reaching for things
you’ll never be able to grasp.”
And he’s reaching under my nerves,
pulling apart my skin barriers
that hold my blood
and muscles intact.
He’s been getting good at that.
Tearing at the root of my ego,
gnawing
on my ‘unrealistic dreams,’
ripping up my passions from the stems.
Then his lips turn and he smirks.
He shakes the dirt off his hands,
all while I’m left to replant myself
in this garden of butterflies.
You see,
I don’t need ‘balance’
or ‘discipline’
to finish what i start,
because I don’t enjoy the endings.
I reach for everything in-between—
the depth,
the substance,
the wisdom
and mistakes.
I need the h o p e
of growing
into something more.
So yes,
I will never grasp a butterfly,
because maybe
I’m not supposed to.
