Butterflies in concrete gardens

Our lives are woven around the stories we tell His of being not enough of anything and almost believing Mine of misplaced sexuality and battles with daemons His eyes devour me when they meet Our touches ignite something Our connection stronger than either expected Bigger than either of us alone It’s a garden in this city we’ve never known Where flowers are questions and answers nectar Rich and verdant with thought Dripping in silken innuendo Each honeyed sip crystalline intensity Each taste a respite from life’s ennui With each delicate wing beat creating cyclones We circle and joust like butterflies in the heat

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