As elusive as the exotic butterfly…
Too delicate to hold, too beautiful to not desire
I track your flight through the sun dappled glades of my love
Trying to ensnare you with the gossamer weave of joy.
You swoop, teasing me with a tantalizing brush of your wings
Tasting me ever so briefly before rushing to freedom
A single glistening tear, as bright as diamonds, rivers down my face,
As I wave you away with a-
What is this crap? This is not love. This is not the truth.
This is nothing that will prepare you for the depth of cruelty love is.
It’s not delicate, or helpless, or soft!
It’s not moon flowers, or heart songs, and breathless anticipation.
Love is murky, like days old coffee left on a burner, the dregs slowly settling to the bottom.
Love is ugly- the blackened eye from a daddy’s hurtful lesson.
Love is hard like a week old corpse, stranded in a shallow ditch.
Love is harsh- seed dribbling out of a slut’s overeager mouth.
There is beauty, but it can be cold as a wintry cave; lonesome and destitute.
And contentment sometimes breeds boredom and apathy.
There is laughter, sometimes brittle like china hitting the flagstones.
And its sweetness can still make you puke.
Careful my friend, of the grinning lovelorn fools
Their hearts have made them as dangerous as a crack head with a knife.
He has seen a peek of Heaven and it has driven him mad with unworthiness.
She as willingly entered the labyrinth of deceit and no control.
The physical will always out weigh the emotional to those that have no heart sense.
And love will always make you brainless.
And, although I know all this…
I still wait, wondering, Still I search and seek.
Still I pray to be
That crazy
Some day.
Lemme Have It
Comments
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lol Great write Like the way it is wrote out too. Ehh day s old coffee on the burner my gosh i drank some once was the worst taste ever.
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This was just downright...awesome. Butterfly poop? At first, I had no idea why you would name a love poem "Butterfly poop"...but when I got to the middle section, yeah, you know what I'm talking about - I figured it all out.
Butterfly Poop, indeed. I love how you presented this. Love is all those things, it IS breathless anticipation, but I will grant you, it is harsh, it is cruel, and it is most definitely NOT helpless. In order for love to work, love must be strong. Love must be cruel, it must be harsh. It must be all those things are more.
And it still leaves you wanting more. Good write!
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I really ike this poem... You did a wonderful job in writing this and getting all of your feelings out so people can easily read them.
~Alix
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Ok after I stopped laughing at the title and started to read this I was thinking to myself, Oh great another one of those....and then you went into what Love REALLY is.I can't express how nice it is to see someone tell of the harsh realities that come along with all the Lovey dovey stuff. Great write here and I have to say that I LLLOOOVVVEEE the title...Butterfly poop.hehehehehe
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