butterflies

i've got butterflies.

you gave them to me.

you wrapped me up in your strong arms and whispered how great you think i am. you said how grateful you were for me.

in the moment i smiled and said you're welcome and i think you are great too.

in the moment i felt safe and secure. i didn't want to release you, or more than that... i didn't want you to release me.

and you didn't. you squeezed tighter.

but then it was over.

as i was driving away, i had a smile on my face. i was giddy.

then suddenly a rush.

a thousand butterflies had just been set free inside of me.

but when i got home i waited for hours to hear from you. i never did, so i took the initiative... again.

you keep saying how great and sweet i am. don't get me wrong i appreciate it, i really do.

but why does everyone say that? i'm growing tired of being called nice. why can't they say that i am

wonderful. incandescent. beautiful. splendid. incredible. brilliant. adorable. dazzling. precious. magical.

i want to be magical.

call me magical. call me precious. please. please call me precious.

you say i mean so much to you. but prove it to me. when you call me fantastic i don't know if i should blush or roll my eyes.

you cancel plans. you don't even the make plans, i do. you don't invite me. i'm  always the one to take the initiative.

i give and give but get nothing in return.

and honestly, i feel like giving up. like the song "say something, i'm giving up on you." actually no. don't just say something.

do something.

"actions speak louder than words."

but the fact is...

you give me butterflies. hundreds and thousands of glorious butterflies.

and i don't know what to do with them.