Butterflies

I’ve been thinking about butterflies lately. Never really thought I had them. Sure, I rearranged many of my days to fit yours and would fly to you when asked but the flutters, the stomach flips, the breath- taking moments, I don’t really think I had them.

I remember coming home one day and running to you on the couch. I remember being giddy with love. I remember the joy of just lying in bed talking. I remember your arms around me even in sleep. I had safety, I had security , I was home. In most ways, that was better than butterflies.

I would drown in your eyes when we talked then you’d say something so unadulteratedly idiotic that would bring me back to reality. I would touch your face and stroke your hair and know with certainty that I belong there. I would always want our skins touching in sleep because I always want to be together.

Right now is one of my worse realities. Not having eyes to drown in, not having mindless chatter to listen to, not having you.

I had something better than butterflies but I would gladly settle for just one right now. Even half a flutter, even half a flip, even just to catch my breath.