(These are my Instagram writings from the account @hyperbolemuch)
An Ode To Butterflies (In My Stomach)
I gave birth to mass populations of you
With each razor-sharp,
Puddle-shallow breath in
And breath out.
The first time I had a crush.
I’ve nursed families and tribes of you,
Every time I’ve really
Really
Really
Really liked someone,
And they walked by
And said “hi” to me.
Hi.
Hi!
I’ve held baby showers for you,
Given you names, like “ImDying Inside”
There’s, “OhMyGod DidWeJustMakeEyeContact”
And, “OhMyGod” “OhMyGod Junior”, “OhMyGod Senior”
Like needy, rowdy kids you’ve,
Raised hell with your fluttering around.
Pressing your downy, feathery bodies
Hard into the anxious lining of my stomach,
Each damn time
I even try to play it cool.
Just before I’m about to speak
The beating of your wings
Drowns out the sound of
Blood in my veins,
And I forget how society,
Usually responds to “Hi”.
Restless kids, you’re out of control
And sometimes take up so much room,
I forget to eat.
And drink too fast.
Which is why I wonder why people
Say you’ll soon be extinct.
Don’t they know I’ve hidden colonies of you,
Deep inside
The caves of my stomach?
Age be damned,
You’re how I’ll know at 60
That I’m young and alive.
(Picture credit @ballerinaproject_)
*****
And no one ever told you
That being young meant
A folding inside,
Starting over,
Stopping swiftly,
Inhaling shyly,
Exhaling frantically
And letting go
Always four seconds too soon.
(Gorgeous picture composition by @ballerinaproject_ with the lovely @katieboren1)
***
I took your idea of beauty and smeared my freckles over it. I took the conditions you placed on love and smudged the "You Sign Here" space with my bleeding heart.
Straight across.
I bought expensive art and ran a magic marker in three different squiggles, symmetrically around its edges.
I took this world, broken and bent and hopeful and taught it how to wear its organs inside out, to prevent being misunderstood.
I made it all mine.
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