What is it with you and the star god anyway? I know you he loves you, but isn't enough enough? Doesn't he know by now?
You are part woman, part goddess and part butterfly. Not just any butterfly, but the very butterfly that slept on Buddah's toe, kissed Jesus on the cheek, and whispered "nice job" in Ghandi's ear. You are the butterfly that flapped its wings and raised the seas, when the fishes needed the seas raised. That flapped its wings and stirred the winds, when the slaves in the fields needed a breeze. That tickled the chin of that homeless man on sixth street who hadn't laughed in four years.
Everyone sees different colors in your wings. You're so cute that way. What do you show the star god anyway? Go ahead and show him any color you wish, and show the world any color they hope to see, like you do. I will be waiting in your bed, where your true colors bloom.
Have we really been together for a million years now? Darling, it feels like last Tuesday we met. I really don't like bragging, but...hey star god, eat your heart out, son.
3 comments:
I absolutely love the sweetness in this piece.
"nice job, Gandhi"
also, "nice job, Pilolla"
sweet
word verif = reinain
Reading your work makes me feel as if I'm in a different world where everything is beautiful! I absolutely love it.
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