{Poetry}: Beauty in Thunder

Your skeleton is a disguise,
and your heart is a butterfly trapped in a Mason jar.
(Formerly, I thought it fluttered for me,
but now, I am older and none the wiser.)

If I could bottle his love and with it, decorate my hearth,
I know it would stop people in its tracks (for his love is beautiful,
and I am just a simple girl
with simple needs).
The beauty of breath is how naturally it comes.
When he said love, it came like a breath.
(I never knew something as intricate as lace could be as simple as a vow.)
I still have these dreams where I am blind,
and all around me are shadows and distant voices.
I still see your face in empty rooms and hear your voice among the crowds.
(And a still memory as fragrant as honeysuckle
begs me the question,
why do I still remember like it all was yesterday?)
You say if you think growing up is tough,
then you haven’t grown up enough,
but I think you know better now.
(When it was love sonnets and analyzing song lyrics,
it was easier.
When it came time for the truth of thunder and the taste of a needle,

my heart shattered.

Maybe I just wasn’t ready,
but I think you lied to me.)
Some people’s lives are as simple as connect the dots,
but for me, I had to draw the dots to connect the constellations.
(And I could never remember Orion’s name.)
My name is tattooed on his lips because every love song he sings
is dedicated to me.
Some people’s lives are tragedies,
but now, I see the beauty in the thunder.

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