Shhhh, the butterflies are sleeping

It’s just a mood, I hope, or a phase. Something I can go through, get through and then put it behind me. Like a bad movie, or a bad song. Something temporary that can be forgotten.

The butterflies – I think they are sleeping or resting. I guess everything needs to take a break. Like keeping secrets on myself. Little thoughts all folded up and tucked away. Still there, but disturbingly motionless. As I listen for words that will never be said. Wait for promises that will never be made.

If life was only about beginnings and ending, I think I could handle it a lot better. But we all know it’s not that simple. It’s the in-between that kills me. All those shades of gray bogging me down like quicksand. Scaly vines wrapping themselves around my ankles.

I just got so used to the flutter. That amusing little dance that made me feel so warm. And now the sting of disappointment burns all the way down. As I swallow this new flavor of reality.