Butterflies

 

The air smelled of apples and fresh cut grass. Our foreheads were touching and your breath danced on my face like summer breeze. Your fingers travelled in all directions while I tried to tame the words that threaten to escape my mouth before sounding pretty and perfect. I felt like a moth trapped in a lampshade.

‘I love you’, I said and met your eyes, a ‘but’ at the tip of my tongue.

You stopped the word with your lips. ‘I don’t want to hear the but’, you whispered in your ragged shallow voice that echoed through every cell of my body. You kissed me again before I had a chance to reply. All those elegantly arranged words in my mind began to untangle into letters and the letters transformed into fluttering wings of butterflies. I tried to catch them. I did. But they were dancing in no order, creating colourful chaos and they were mesmerising. After a while I stopped trying. I just watched and enjoyed their show, the ‘but’ lost in a swarm of butterflies.

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