Butterflies Again

I’m feeling butterflies again
I was sure that winter had frozen them all –
stopped every last wing from fluttering.

Maybe his eyes thawed them.
“What! What could you possibly see here?”
But I couldn’t make him look away.

Or maybe it was the way he didn’t touch me, at least not at first.
He leaned in (inhale) and pulled back (exhale) with my breath –
And reached for my scars instead of my display.

He shared space with me.
On mountaintops and the edges of black seas.
Tangled on couches and rental car back seats.

And maybe I wasn’t ready.
And maybe I was broken.
But the butterflies have awoken –
there is a wildfire burning in my veins
consuming my past and turning her to ash.