the best butterflies don't fade

you and I --

messily scrawled
    on dirty palms
    on thin wrists
    on the backs of hands
(oh, you know me so well)

you and I --

badly drawn
    across wooden desks
    across cold walls
    across dusty old blueprints
(and that's how we love)

you and I --

well-written
    in starry eyes
    in firefly sunsets
    in the noonday sun
(beautiful, yes)

you and I --

we are creatures of the ink
pretty words and
skinny stick figures
but
we are more than the marks
we leave on paper
and skin;

we are permanent
(you and I)