journal · poetry

Butterfly

I’ve been vying for lines to express
a disappointment I’ve tried hard to forget,
but sneaks its way in,
always somehow.
Playing games,
faking names,
and changing the lanes of my heart;
sprouting skepticism.
I wish you were here now.
& for a rewind,
to make the many wrongs right,
to clear my mind,
or write.
Have it all written down,
sewn together,
a tapestry with words.
Then I could just set it aside,
be free to love you like I should,
I would.
Subtract the doubt
diffidence
hesitance
and voracious need
from the rest of myself
and that equals…(?)
It’s too bad that I’m not any good at math.

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