Little Soul

by remembertoexhale

In France they call butterflies Papillon because they are the same yellow as parking tickets
which they also call Papillon 
The English called them “butterfly” because they believed that 
witches turned into winged creatures and stole butter.
In other languages they are translated as “lickers of milk”
so maybe the English weren’t that far off.

I remember when we went for walks in the forest 
and we could see the humidity in the air
rising like fog 
I remember how our favourite part
was going off the path and into the bushes
getting slapped by the branches
probably waking and irritating every animal within a ten kilometer radius of us.

I remember how when we would to look up at the canopy
you described it as leaf lace
and said that that was probably how the first designer thought to create such a delicate material
and soon after you bought me a lace dress
you said I was like black lace and leather
because I was the hard and soft details together

I always remember how you didn’t like they way that
caterpillars ate holes out of the leaves
but I loved watching you stand under it and protest 
because of the way that the sun filtered through each little hole
made it look like your face was made up of tiny stars

And even though you believed butterflies looked like parking tickets
and were probably the thieves that stole our milk and butter
I remember reading that in Russian they were called
“babochka”
and In ancient Greece they called them
“psyche”
both of which mean little soul

And every time I see a butterfly
or my milk and butter disappears a little quickly
I think maybe its your little soul coming back to me 

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