the flutter of moth wings seem thunderous in comparison
to the whisper of my fingers on your skin.
but both things do tremble, my heart is the fool, the origin.
and tremble my hands do,
whenever i reach out to you.
because i would no sooner give you a reason,
any reason to shy away
than to touch you with anything but with something akin to a heedful ballet.
so forgive me, i plead with you
why i seem nervous or unsure
when i trace the curve of your face
because i aim to soothe, not ever
ever
to erase
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 2:34 PM UTC
the flutter of moth wings seem thunderous in comparison
to the whisper of my fingers on your skin.
but both things do tremble, my heart is the fool, the origin.
and tremble my hands do,
whenever i reach out to you.
because i would no sooner give you a reason,
any reason to shy away
than to touch you with anything but with something akin to a heedful ballet.
so forgive me, i plead with you
why i seem nervous or unsure
when i trace the curve of your face
because i aim to soothe, not ever
ever
to erase
