I want to fall in love again and again;
With the anticipation of constancy
Forming butterflies with little wings
Before they fly off, leaving pits.
I want to gaze into many different sets of eyes;
That one with crinkles at the corner,
Others maybe blue or green,
And only mine remain.
I think I’d like to recycle tragedy and redemption,
To forever be seen for the first time,
To constantly be revealing my secrets
And be the worship of a man.
I should like this world to be a place
Where we agree to fall in and then out,
With a mutual parting of ways
Once the butterflies fly away.