Tell me you’ve seen the world.
Now, you’ve come back home
Tell me you’ve carried me with you,
That you’ve held me close.
Tell me you’ve missed me
Or that I’m not crazy for waiting cause
Of all the butterflies that chose to stay,
I’m in love with the one that got away ↗
I had found him again, and with him, my world had become completely unwound. It was messy and impulsive, naïve and irrational, and somehow, right again. ↗
I dreamed I was a butterfly, flitting around in the sky; then I awoke. Now I wonder: Am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man? ↗