May The Butterflies Rise Again

I remember the aches I felt in my stomach when I’d see you smile. The way the butterflies fluttered out of control and made me wince, because it was just too much thrill to contain in one abdomen.

I remember when they’d start to rave when our eyes would lock, because they’d feel just as uncertain as the moments that would last short enough to breed doubt.

I remember when they’d fall quiet at the bottom of a hollow starving cave, they’d whither. Waiting for another storm they could dance through.

I remember when they’d hop in my stomach, begging me to shake their stillness with a breath of anything to feed their existence.

I remember when they stilled at your final words to me, giving up and knowing that the season had passed and their time in me was done.

I remember when they stabbed my insides, fueled with anger, using their final might to teach me a lesson I’ll never forget.

I remember it all, and I never gave butterflies as much of my heart as I did just then. The butterflies that lived what may seem to others as a mere moment, but to me an eternity before they died with the idea of you.

I don’t know what magic I have to sorcer to bring them back, but I feel hollow enough to try every single thing. I will dance with life’s melodies, shaking their lifeless wings in an effort to keep them alive, until they rise again.