by Tess Patricia Maxwell
My mind is adrift
To where your face was sleeping
Under the blanket of the sun.
Trying to stay between
The two white lines
Seems almost impossible.
You were following butterflies
And I was catching them in my stomach.
Only setting them free once our time had ceased.
Coming out of my own cocoon is time spent with you.
I would spend my days as a butterfly
If it meant you followed me too.