Planting Butterflies

You have a way of, stirring my soul
When I finally understood this
I can’t help but love
the beauty that you have

You have a way of, making love-
out of words
spilled ink through
sepia-skinned pages

You have a way of, planting butterflies in my stomach
When I laugh, it meant happiness
when I do, my mouth gave birth to
the butterflies you scattered

You have a way of, a deeper pull of passion
you could rearrange my soul
to love the person I’ve become and
plant the dreams I’ve never dared sow…

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