Butterfly Season


To a Special Man

There was once a boy who was really good at lightening moods and making people laugh. He wasn't the most handsome nor the loudest. He just had this manner in the way he smiled that would intrigue us to the point where we just had to ask him,"_____, what are you smiling about?!" & the personality he held when he would express the things only he seemingly saw. All the kids in the class loved being in his presence and there wasn't anything he couldn't brighten-except maybe a lightbulb.

Late one evening I approached him at his favorite swings in the neighborhood park, after everything had really become everything and it wasn't what anyone wanted.
We sat quietly for a moment and the butterflies didn't fly.
"You always cheered me up, why won't you do it right now?!"

He looked at me with bright but forlorn eyes and the smile that no longer held the magic to make the saddest laugh.
"As much as I'd like to, sometimes... you just need to feel the pain."

& for the rest of the night he silently kept me company.




10 years gone, 10 years strong-

-even without a word spoken between us.
Like anyone else who doesn't have enough heart to hold all the pains, I'm tired of crying.
&& I can't help missing her.


At A Loss


These words that I speak... I could never say them with my mouth.

And even then I cannot discern if they are really mine or if I'm only reciting from someone I've heard once or twice before-somewhere I don't quite remember yet seems like a place I've lingered in. How do I know when I'm really being me or when I'm acting with or without the values I'm supposed to have yet who are they to say I'm supposed to really have them or not?

The words in The Bible... they're all truth, are they not? && if one thing is perceived to be wrong, then it would make sense that anything else spoken by it to be fallacious. So which would it be, all truth or should it ought to be considered a false that we that have been following it to be all just a bunch of fools? For something put at this high regard can't possibly be a Book with tidbits of fictitious letters with marks of sincerity. It is meant to be a Book of love!
My faith, my faith why have you forsaken me? Yet still have me bound to your will, tearing my soul to shreds and torturing my thoughts when I dare to think.

And YOU. Are YOU really reading this?
Because I can't be sure I'm the one writing it.