My little Butterflies.

Monday, January 23, 2012


I may not be here,
A missing person some would say,
Always being the magician's assistant,
One minute here, and the next away.

Our times, 
Often colliding,
Almost always, in the most inconvenient ways,
Straining all, that the heart cannot keep away.

This moment, 
Similarly to every other,
There's a longing; so strong,
Only to see you; non other.

But like every other moment,
You're not here, and I'm far away,
In this very moment,
Only pictures, 
they will have to do; that's the only way.

Easing this lust,
Easing the pain,
Easing it all,
'til I see you again.

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