Butter

I keep spread thin like butter on toast
melting in crevices and shadows that seep deeper than you wanted
not substantial I won't hold you over
I won't make time stand still for you I wish you wouldn't wish
for more than nothing.
It's your crevices that I want
it is the spreading
thin
that I can't help
the thickness of voice
keeps me floating on the surface
good thing I never put my feet down
you are up to my ankles and I want
deep
and sound sleep and bare feet on rough bark
and braches that bend
and getting lost in boughs
together
but I am too much for
that thickness of your voice
so I'll keep it spread thin
make butterflies crawl
not fly
just flutter
and didn't we want the same thing to begin with?
Oh no. Oh you thought...
I do apologize.