A Moth in a World of Butterflies.

A man, worthy of a king, befallen a curse.
The curse of being too much himself.
Too caring, too loving, too blunt, too serious, too playful.
Too much the king he is that it scares everyone away.
A beast, alone and convinced this curse will end him.

The millisecond we met and you wrapped your arms around me...
The friction of our molecules sparked a fire that has not since stopped roaring.
Roaring like I did, crying for what could be in the past.
The fire fed through nothing of my own will.
A force unseen radiating from you.
This fire rages, licking the tips of my fingers as they wish to warm you.
Touching you hoping to join the same fire inside.
Hoping to consume, hoping to grow, hoping to burn bright.
So much that it inspires others.

That moment of eye contact. You flipping your hair on your shoulder.
It felt like you were shooting waves of a unseen force to me.
The vibrations shaking the very foundation of everything I ever known about anything.
I didn't realize I was lost until the moment I made you smile.
Your laughter was like a way point. The compass pointing true north.
I knew where I wanted to go, and where I wanted to be.
There was purpose in the way you looked at me and your lips parted.
You radiating this beauty I wanted to capture and keep in jars.
Seal it up and only to open in case of an emergency.
I sat there stunned. Only able to attempt to reciprocate. Awkwardly, in hopes that you might even have an inkling of the same fire inside.
I sat there, suddenly realizing the pieces are broken but they still work.
Not destroyed, not decayed, not gone.

Not enough.

The voices inside reminding me that I'm not enough.
You will never be enough. The words punching and slamming. Damning. Cursing.
I'm not what you want, I'm not what you need. I'm not anything that could be anything for you.

The vibrations continued as you laughed at my dumb jokes. You peeled away the shit internal monologue with every time you looked at me with your smirk. Every time you flipped your hair.
I felt like I became a different thing. No longer human or anything in between.
The chemistry bubbling away.
A metamorphosis. A moth to the flame. Hitting my self against it repeatedly, unknowingly, operating on just instinct.
A moth in a world of butterflies.
A king turned feral beast.
A true monster.

You unravel me. A simple mystery. Get lost in my patterns, let me leave you clues. Little scales and flakes rub off of me as we interact.
I try to leave a trail for you to follow.
A trail leading to the busted up shack of my heart.
A place built by true actions like loving too hard, caring too much, being too blunt, too serious, too playful. A place where I roared in intimacy, solace, tears, hope, and joy.
A place where now my heart burns there too.

A king. A moth. A beast. A monster. A man.
The man.
My heart burns there, too.



As a first draft, what do you think?