Everything In Its Right Place

When I let the butterflies in I feel like I used to a year ago when passover happened, and there was white everywhere. Butterflies rise in my stomach every time I look back, and I feel my lips in the shower with freezing fingertips and I press my nails to my hips and drag them along the bones for just a little while, because there's nothing that feels better to me than hot water and cold finger(nail)s in the morning. There was a hole that you made deep and apparent in everything I did, and I've never been able to stand tall and proud on the top of a mountain in the middle of spring with nothing on but a tunic I borrowed from a little girl I used to know, and breathe. I let my chest rise and fall now that your gone because I can feel it all over and it's soo nice to feel that I'm not waiting for you and that I'm free to say no and yes and get the fuck out of my life, I'm too much for you. The pulse under the honeycomb is the most apparent, so I touch it lightly while sleeping on my back.

Her shoulders are like the setting of the sun when she slumps them, and I tried so hard to tell her that she shouldn't have, and to please let the sun be up for more than three seconds. You were molded to me so much that I couldn't tell who it was that was shivering and my hands smelled like the material of your shirt and the weight of you touching me lightly twenty minutes after you left. I touch my lips tentatively because I don't want to erase that memory just yet, even though it's not old at all. There's something about your eyes that I like a whole fuck-of-a-lot, and I dunno what to do sometimes. Colors burst behind my closed eyes when you touched my waist, and I don't think that's ever happened to me (except when I lay on my bed at five in the afternoon and the sun paints my cheeks pink and my eyelids red) so I gasped a little and then blushed, but I don't think you saw and I smiled a bit because I was a bit relieved. I used to be so afraid of you being him that I did everything to keep you more than an arms length from me at all times, because I was 'the little dark girl with kind eyes' and he did use Bukowski's knife more than once despite me and the promises made. Sometimes I stay awake until three in the morning and sit out on the porch while everyone's asleep and pretend to be anyone I want while the lavender plant grows and blooms two centimeters from my face because it's my favorite scent in the entire world, save honey and the way she smells when we wake up early to walk around the neighborhood. I didn't wear shoes for 12 hours while I explored the creek by my house and the water at the edge of the earth that's so cold I couldn't get more than two feet from it without all of my extremities freezing in the greenest grass in the entire world. My nose and body are always cold, so it's pleasant when you nuzzle me in between kisses and I like that you're always touching some part of my body, even if it's just my hand or even a finger. I never sleep as well as I do after I see you, and I'm not sure why. There must be a thousand endorphins buzzing through my veins like honeybee's- and it's the worst while I'm draped over you chest because you're soo warm- on steroids, and they've just had their fill as well, so it doesn't help.