Butterfly Weeds

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

More than every once in awhile, More than most dreams, More than just my heart, More than anything, More than you know, And more than I can say, I’ve loved you more Every passing day

See, I’m in love with the person you can never outrun. I’m in love with you.

Dreams would always end with you, and then mornings would steal you away with a cruelty that haunted my days.

There is a perfect someone, even if the road to that someone isn’t all that perfect.

How does the story really go? Does she ever cross your mind? Does she ever steal your nights? Is she still a part of you? Do you ever wish she were still by your side? And what would you do? If she walked up here tomorrow And told you that she loved you? Would you drop it all and run to her? Would you tell her you love her too? Or would you simply send her home? And tell her you’ve moved on? Tell me, Buddy, what would you do?

I loved you too much to lose you twice.

I’ll love you until the last petal falls, Jules.

It was a completely new feeling for me–like someone had just released a million, tiny butterflies loose in my stomach, and they were feverishly flying up into my head and making me lose my mind.

Perfect love was that kind of love that made no sense but made everything else make sense somehow. It was raw and unscripted, turbulent and slightly unpredictable.

Life didn’t go how I had planned, but I couldn’t have planned a better life. Somewhere in between the beginning and eternity, I fought the war that we all must fight–the journey that in taking, forces us to come face to face with our own realities.

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.

The past is a very determined ghost, haunting every chance it gets.

But no, Sir, to answer your question. I'm taken, and I have been since I was sixteen," Will confessed

You’re much too beautiful for tears.

Life didn’t go how I had planned, but I couldn’t have planned a better life. Somewhere in between the beginning and eternity, I fought the war that we all must fight – the journey that in taking, forces us to come face to face with our own realities. My reality was that I was, is and will always be madly and hopelessly in love with you. You are my love of loves, my dream of dreams, my hope of hopes, and I would take the journey all over again because it led me to you, because it’s our story – the story of us. As for the war, I surrendered.

I just want her to know that she's still beautiful, after all these years, and that I'm here - always,

She always used to say that the past is a relentless parasite in its quest, feeding off of the senses, looking for anything that will trigger a memory–forever there to complicate the present, forever there to remind us that it will always be a piece of us. I never had a clue as to what she meant, until now.

A faint smell of lilac filled the air. There was always lilac in this part of town. Where there were grandmothers, there was always lilac.

Now, you and I both know that I’ll wait a lifetime for you – remember, Butterfly Weeds never give up – so take your time down there. And tonight, as you watch that big, orange sun disappear into the earth and your world gradually grow dark, I’ll help God turn on the stars, and I’ll wait for my dawn – when you return to me, Julia Stephens. I love you, My Butterfly. You’ll always be my endless song. Love always and forever, Your one and only Butterfly Weed, Will

His voice had this thick, Charleston accent, where every word had more syllables than ever intended, yet each word seemed as if it had been carefully chosen and presented in a way that only a man born and raised in the heart of the South could–distinguished and from a different time.

She tries to wear her pain on the inside. She always has. It’s the trademark of the oldest sibling, I think.

Somewhere in between the beginning and eternity, I fought the war that we all must fight–the journey that in taking, forces us to come face to face with our own realities.

I believe that there is a perfect someone for everyone, and I know that you still believe that too. There is a perfect someone, even if the road to that someone isn’t all that perfect,” he added.

Don’t count him out, Julia. He hasn’t given up on you.

Here, Fridays were dedicated to the two Bs–Beach and Boats.

Every small town that I had ever been to had had a caboose.

Big events, small, mundane moments of the day–it doesn’t matter; the past will find a way to squeeze into the present–if you let it.

A smitten smile unexpectedly shot across my face, and I quickly hid it as best I could–purely out of habit. Will Stephens doesn’t get smitten smiles.