I am the culmination of everything I have ever loved
every lingering glance I have let last too long
and affectionate syllable I have spoken too softly
I love wholeheartedly and with generosity
even in the wrong moments, unadvisedly
when feeling the rush of a sweet dishonesty
tied to the lips of those undeserving of me
I am made from the scars of my mother
and the labor from my father
but rebirthed every time I meet a new personality
my skin soaking up their congeniality  
breathing art, tasting music, and living poetry
constantly yearning for different realities
yet knowing I find them between the cushions of your cars seats
through the window, in the silence, or right under my feet
I would not be who I am without the winters dusk
or every imprint left on my skin from unexpected touch
I am made of butterflies, meant to be everything I love