delight

vibrant with bright colors
of bone wings.
the word cage couldn’t be more wrong.
for my rib cage is the wing
to my heart fluttering
down into my stomach,
not sinking
but flying
and hitting the walls of my belly,
and then back up to my mind,
where creativity flows
like crystal waters
and ideas bloom like
roses.
beautiful but painful
if you don’t hold them right.
and my butterfly heart
soars to my eyes,
where the blue skies reflect
onto my iris.
wonder and beauty
Polish my bright eyes
and turn them up to the galaxies.
where everything glows with bright stars
to ground us to earth,
to take what we have and stare into
the unknown with awe.
butterfly wings of bone
graze the muscle of my arm,
then lands on my fingertips.
where I can feel the heartbeat-
the rapid flaps of those bone wings-
of another by simply placing
it on another.
down
down
down
to my feet where the cold grass grazes
my toes,
where hot pavement meets
soothing water,
where they feel the inside of my bed,
sleeping.
my heart goes back to the garden in my head
and directs my sky colored irises to a mirror.
I see the galaxies in my freckles,
the clouds in my eyes,
the rose tinted cheeks,
the beauty in my smile.
my butterfly heart takes it’s rightful
place between my rib bones,
it stretches it’s wings and guides me to
love
and beauty
and happiness,
and the galaxies
and everything I can ever want to be.