I built a wall around my heart for you.
It took years.
You kept tearing it down with your devilish grin and soft eyes.
In time it held true.

You walk in the room and my heart does not flutter.
My butterflies are caged.

Seven years.
Impervious to your smile.
Immune to your touch.
Indifferent to your voice.

When before the ground beneath my feet would falter and there was only you and I.
I flew on the wings of butterflies.

For seven years.
I was high in the clouds.
And you were on the ground, admiring flowers.

You found a beautiful one, but she has thorns.
Have you felt their pain?
Or are you blinded by the beauty of petals?

You threw rocks at the wall last night.
Like pebbles on the windowpane and I faltered.
I opened up.
Your butterflies have long died but there was something in their place.

We danced.
I looked beyond your shoulders.
At everything around us.
Colourful. Loud.

Funny how Rocket Man changed that.
When I was always the one in the clouds.

Your steady hand on my waist.
Your soft breath on my neck.
Our interlaced fingers.

I focus on your shoulders, your body.
I let myself fall into you.
And it’s just you and I.

I’m not in the clouds.
I’m grounded.
And it scares the hell out of me.

I was right about the butterflies.
The wall is back.
And I’m flying.

‘Til touchdown brings me ’round again to find.

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