Dear Me,.....

Butterflies

When I was younger, every time an attractive guy walked by,

 I'd gawk and stare.
I'd make mental notes of his style, his hair,

the way he walked, carried himself and wondered, would I be good enough for him?
Or better yet, is he good enough for me?

You see, I'd get butterflies if I was even noticed by my crush. If I were white, I'd be blushing.
If I were brave, I'd start flirting.

But these butterflies always cause me to be nervous
They always cause me to be clumsy. Not only with my body but my words as well.

These butterflies traveled to by heart and created a shield with their wings.
A shield that sped up my heart rate.
A shield that made my blood boil.
A shield that protected me, when I found out your not the loyal type.

As I got older and time passed by, these butterflies started to slowly die.

When an attractive guy walks by, I give a one second glance and move on with my life.

I don't care if I'm good enough for you.
I don't care if your good enough for me.

If I'm lucky enough to get a one second glance from you, I'm oblivious. I don't care.

These butterflies are dead. There's no resurrection, intention, or objection for them to return.