Butterflies (The Acceptance)

1 part proud, 1 part sad, 1 part ashamed of this poem. Butterflies...how much of a hippy can I be? Oh well. This is my poem....

Butterflies (The Acceptance)

For each moment that I have missed

Laying here in my solitary cave

Like a dog heart wormed by you

There have been thrice more

Of moments when I felt bliss

Those moment you gave me butterflies.

From our long ago, of his…and his…

To each long ago that ever had been

For each quiet break, crack, shatter

For the hysterical and the nightmarish

For the unreal and the unwanted

There was once the high

Of stomach butterflies

For each moment I am unmovable

I felt thrice the ecstasy

I will never regret all of those moments

I will never regret wet kisses

Late night wishes and whispers across the bed

I will never regret the hand held adventures

The world I experienced only with you

The twilight walks in wet grass

The piggy backs in the parking lots

Consuming sweet summer air 

I will never regret the me in us.

I will never regret the you 

That lingers in my brain

I will never regret.

So as I pull myself up off of the hot sheets

The mascara painted pillows

The shiver of acceptance down my spine

I wipe the last tears

Bear strong.

I will never regret the butterflies

As I move forward.

Best,
Anna Belle Lee

Matter-of-Factly

Because you inspire me

In so many ways.

You.

Your Hands touch me

And send my spine thrills

Your warmth to fight

My eternal chills

Stubble on your cheeks

Belly against my spine

Breath in my ear

Toes pressed onto mine

That calculating heart

And loving mind

When it comes to you

There is much left to find.

The way your kisses

Stick on my nose

A calm velvet voice

Lips cliché as a rose

Your smell

Of freshly lit matches

Blush like

Strawberry patches.

Curious dark eyes

Shielded by glasses

A smile in your eye

My heart goes to ashes

One day I looked over at you

“Why did you decide you liked…loved me?”

You chuckled warmly.

“Because I liked you a lot.

You’re nice.

 I like spending time with you.”

You said it matter-of-factly.

“What about you?”

To that I had no reply.

And I silently wondered...

Is love matter-of-factly?

Best,
Anna Belle Lee