You come:
The clouds begin to drift again,
Pink butterflies scratch against the walls,
I live from one heartbeat to the next –
From me to you – in slow, hopeless moments.

You come:
The leaves fall down from paintings,
Purple shadows settle on my eyelids,
Kilometers stretch from me to you –
Rigged miles of the universe.

You come:
Butterfly wings shed clouds of pollen,
Staining my fingertips crimson,
You come as spring does,
Warming the world with love and fire.

You come,
You open my heart to you,
From a heap of shattered fragments
You gather the pink butterflies
That once, high above us, gave us silence-thinned air.