Ever been so infatuated with someone/thing you get too wrapped up in them to think properly? I sure have.
I close my eyes and dream of a place we could finally be together in. A place where he could mend my broken butterfly self.
I ponder if he thinks about this; surely not.
I want to feel how soft his lips are, if they were to ever to touch mine. I want to feel his breath against mine, his cheesy smile against my own. I want to run my hands along his body, feeling every bump, every mole, every little imperfection. I wonder how his hands feel pressed against my own.
I want to be able to hear his husky voice each morning and see his messy hair. I want to be able to run my hands through his hair, memorized by the feeling of his hair brushing against my palm. I want to be entranced by his collar bone, running my hand along it.
I want reality with him. A reality where broken butterflies fly despite the circumstances. A reality where I can feel his forehead against mine.
--but this dream is merely just a dream. When I wake up, I'll still be a broken butterfly who can't fly. I'll just be a silly boy with a infatuated dream.
Just another broken butterfly to fix.
