Butterfly Wings

You don’t know where I go afterwards,
after a piece of me is left inside you.

Some dim, frost-sheened winter glade
or an endless beach of infinite grains
where stars ignite against the still ocean,
motionless in perfect celestial glows.

And I won’t be able to 
tell you this is a memory,
we’ll still speak with touch
even after descending from
such furious passion unleashed.

I won’t tell you how the last glow
from your brilliant open eyes
will radiate deep into my dreams,
there will always be some things
I just won’t be able to say.

You’ll feel our thighs ribboned together,
a gift never meant to be unwrapped,
ties never meant to be touched and undone,
but you won’t see the pain that spills
from my heart opening like split butterfly wings.

You don’t know where I go afterwards,
after a piece of me is left inside of you.

Some dim quiet autumn meadow
or the thick misty summer heat
where we watch explosions in the sky,
motionless in their perfect celestial fires.

And I won’t know how to 
tell you this is a memory of us
that has yet to happen,
we’ll still speak through touch
even after climbing down from
such powerful human passion.

I won’t say how the last soft kiss
or how the smell of your smooth skin
will seep deeply into all dreams,
or how your fingertips roaming my chest
was the safest I have ever been,
a touch more gentle than my hands
could ever hope to once emulate.

You’ll whisper about how love
ribbons us together even when apart,
a gift never meant to be torn to shreds,
ties never meant to be touched and undone,
but you’ll never see all the pain that spills
from my heart opening like frail butterfly wings.

You aren’t meant to know
where I go afterwards,
after an essence is forever
left inside of you.

Some dim numberless winter night
or the first sweet spring scent
of magnolias and violets
carried on a cool low breeze
where we’ve made love in pure heat,
motionless beyond our mutual explosions.

And I won’t be able to tell this memory
apart from the glow of the others,
we’ll just speak through touch 
even after winding down from
such mirrored passion unhinged.

I won’t tell you about the pain that spills
from my heart opening like scared butterfly wings,
or that I’ll never know how to let you go,
there are some things I simply just can’t say.

You don’t know where I go afterwards,
I believe I’ve never left from inside you.