I dreamed I was a butterfly.
(Or butterfly was me.)
I fluttered by the golden sky,
The mountaintops, the sea.

I felt the warmth, the sweet caress,
The gentle breeze of love.
I knew there was no hell below,
No heaven up above.

I spread my wings and let it go,
Forgetful of the past.
I dreamed I was a butterfly.
I fluttered – free at last.

I drifted on the salty waves,
Beset by melting ice…
Amid long years and short days
I freely cast my dice.

My dreams came true, and all at once
The evil was no more…
I let it wash all over me,
And then – I crashed ashore.

Anon, reborn, I dreamed again.
(Or butterfly dreamed on.)
My whole existence – pure as Zen,
Unique as a black swan.

The shards, dispersed along the way,
I gathered – one by one.
The kintsugi of life I made
Was brighter than the sun.

The silent flapping of my wings,
Akin to sands of time,
Sustained a galaxy of springs –
Both mortal and divine.

I ambled on, both dry and drowsed…
The point of no return –
I felt at home… When I aroused,
A better world was born.

My dream, however short it was,
Is now a part of me.
Now, conscious of a grander cause,
I flutter by so free.

I write this as she sleeps
next to me, with me,
but not with me,
as a testament to the light
she spreads across my pages,
chest moving
in and out,
in and out,
breathing kindness into
these words with her own.
The object of my attention,
affection,
she will rise tomorrow
to the surprise of post-midnight
poetry, hopefully
bringing a smile to her face
as she does mine,
and our small habits
across hundreds of miles
unfold
to become larger rituals,
grander ceremonies,
separated by mere inches.

Foot tapping on waiting room
Linoleum with the pace of test
Result nervousness.

Scent of mostly bad news
Layered on walls in dire need
Of paint and less tasteless

Decor.
Her name is a shot fired at
The shield surrounding her

Continous playback of worst
Case scenarios as her hand meets
That of the doctor

Whose eyes give less than
Nothing away.
Please sit down.

Sink like shards of shattered
Hearts, or float for decades in
Love with the worried man

Awaiting the same news with
Unsteady workman's hands
Around a ***** phone.

It vibrates, and the Doomsday
Clock in his chest skips ticks
And tocks, approaching a

Schrödinger's midnight or noon.
I'm in remission, she whispers.
Then nothing.

Nothing but two unison breaths
Carried across an umbilical
Cord connecting souls that just

Lost their full
Amount of
Weight.

This is Relief.
This is Sunrise;
Spring.

It was a cold day running from the cops in the rain.
Gotta get my hands ***** if I wanna buy a chain
If I do make it out imma prolly go insane
If I do get rich then its prolly off a stain

Hands all ****** as im hopping on the bus
+
Air so cold that my blood turned to slush
+
Growing 2 fast like **** what's the rush
Get rich or die trying
There is nothing 2 discuss