When I glide the pen across
the paper, it’s so easy to talk about.
Something so secret, no one knows.
In person it’s different.
The words just don’t come
out like they should.
They look so much better against
the bleached white paper.
If only,
If only in real life could I tell
you how it really should be.
That day so long ago etched into
the back of my mind,
behind the big tree.
I will never forget the feeling in
the bottom of my stomach,
just waiting for a butterfly to
pop out and fly away.
Now, years later, I get that same
feeling walking into class every morning.
This feeling is so new to me,
it’s almost like a rush of excitement.
But now it feels like I’m going
to throw up a butterfly.
Smiling at you,
you nodding back.
I now find myself talking
on the phone making dinner plans.
What do I wear?
Does this look alright?
He tells me I look beautiful,
he looks really good too.
Out of the blue, he leans over and gives
me a butterfly kiss.
It isn’t so secret anymore.