There's a peculiar kind of beauty that can only be experienced
with the innate knowledge that the moment is fleeting
and the most intense beauty can only be seen in
the presence of both light and shadows.
For it’s often in the loss of a thing
that its worth to us becomes
most precious and by
letting it go with
grace we can
best savor
its purest
delights.
Realizing
that the pain
runs so deep only
because the beauty ran
so deep and that without
it having once touched us we
wouldn't now know the emptiness
of its loss, our grief will eventually turn to
thankfulness that it ever touched us at all, and
we will be left awed by the mystery of its haunting.

You leave me in a flutter,
Butterflies run rampant in my stomach.
This state of ascension,
Just by the mere presence of your attention.

These conversations leave me afloat.
Adrift on an ocean of thought,
Where nothing real feels of note,
And reality means naught.

This moment of mesmerism,
Holding my heart, my mind, my soul.
And I'll replay my actions
Like the motions of a mechanism.
Falling into the same state,
Feeling as is if it's butterflies I've ate.

Could we have seen it coming.
A slow trainwreck running
Its course veering at the margins
Treading away from its origin.

Had we missed all the signs.
Or did we intentionally not see
What was the inevitable, what was to be.