some yesterdays were like butterflies

I could not stay still enough

to tame into my hand

while others were hot breath too close

so that I had to turn to nothing

to slip through the strangulation 

of what I did not want to touch me

with the grease of fingerprints

of what wanted to mark me 

with the stain of memory

some tomorrows are like red balloons

filled with the ascension of hope

like my heart could float to another day

while others are prophesies 

of rubber limp and dead on sandy shores

waiting to be swallowed by the salty tides

to find their way inside the belly of the fish 

scaled with all my dreams

but these in between days

they are the sanctuary of where I find

the choice to love you now

in the moment of today

when a whisper is the kiss

of a kaleidoscope of butterflies

one and other after each

and silence is a place for me to fill

with my own breath

to watch just how a heart can grow

when it decides to love

and time is measured only in

how long a thought can last

of how the world could know such light

and then it starts again

as if the beginning swallowed the end

as manna to make it strong

and a single second could grow so deep

dreams could spiral upward

forever in the sun without the need to leave

the liquiblime cradle of where it draws its breath