A girl stood before me at the supermarket
a few random items littered her basket
pink socks poked out from her sneakers
they were covered with little creatures
an inch of flesh stood between
those ankle high socks and her jeans.
Nice socks I exclaimed!
she turned around inflamed
looked at me and said
I have a boyfriend
her face now red.
Are they his I asked?
her face broke into a laugh
sorry I got so defensive
guys make me apprehensive
I don't really have a boyfriend
sometimes I just like to pretend.
*I know how you feel I replied
in embarrassment I've often lied
and whenever I'm struck by beauty
of someone new I meet
I can't look directly at them
I look towards their feet.
I sat alone in dim light.
The empty movie theater
in plush, red curtains dressed
lush but worn comforting velvet seats.
No other soul around to distract
from my thoughts and gaze.
Drama clearly displayed on screen
a young couple argued, a teary eyed girl
hurt and pain clearly acted on the screen
a modern drama, a soap opera.
I observed mesmerized me for a while
and in the interior of my soul I questioned,
why is there pain, why do we have to suffer?
The answer quickly came within myself,
sensing a voice that said;
"Because people tend to believe they
are the characters they've come to play."
And suddenly, I awoke from
my technicolor vivid dream.
A revealing dream in which I was the observer and student.
There was a blue butterfly,
At my sill I saw it land,
And felt an emotion then,
That I try to understand.
The next day I returned,
And my blue friend did appear,
Not with awe inspiring flight,
But with crippling despair.
A ripped wing made flight hard,
Still it tried to fly in vain,
I watched with sorrow here,
On this side of the window pane.
I thought of all the butterflies,
And wondered why they fly,
The ground is so much safer,
Yet I always see them try.
Some torn from the air by wind,
Others stunted during growth,
But like them we all must live,
Flying high as if by oath.