Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Butterflies Gone By


Is it too much to ask for magic? Am I too old to be expecting butterflies anymore? Have I lost the innocence and naivety needed to feel infatuation again? As I lie in bed next to Mr. Perfectforme, I inevitably feel the sneaking snake of doubt come creeping into my mind. I feel guilt for feeling doubt because I should be letting myself go, falling in love, head spinning. But I'm not. I'm thinking of dishes in the sink, presents to be wrapped, e-mails to reply to. When I roll over and sees his amazing baby blues staring at me, I don't get flutters and flickers. Instead, my mind floats back to another time, another place, another set of arms which, when wrapped among, gave me the flutters and flickers. I miss those arms and those feelings. I would give anything to have one more night in those arms, the butterflies flying crazy inside of me.

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