Butterflies in Springtime

I’m not a sappy girl.  Not overly mushy, I don’t gush, but I still blush when I get embarrassed.  I wouldn’t say that I’m shy, but I’m very… aware.  But he gives me butterflies every time he calls or sends a text; every time I think about being near him.  All of the fluttering starts to build, and I’m so (internally) flustered.

As we get to know each other, it’s like peeling back layers of an onion.  With each layer, we reveal something new to each other.  Every time he tells me something new, the butterflies return to remind me of his effect on me.  When he reveals even the tiniest inkling of how he feels about me, the butterflies multiply, and he can hear my smile in the dark from thousands of miles away.

I love when people get closer and begin to find their rhythm, but I’m not ready to let go of my butterflies.  Not yet.

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