She filled me up with butterflies
Their wings made of her
Charcoal hair.
Butterflies as beautiful as her and
Almost as dangerous.
Once they realized
She left me behind
The carnivorous little devils
Ate me alive
From the inside out,
Their bites hurt almost as much as her
Silence.
I haven't seen her in months
And the butterflies are dying
Their rotting corpses
Thud to the ground
Next to my broken heart.
As the silence screams at me
The last butterfly dies
And I am almost free
But once again she reaches out
And grabs my heart
Her claws tearing me apart
Then her butterflies stitch me back together
once again.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 4:31 AM UTC
She filled me up with butterflies
Their wings made of her
Charcoal hair.
Butterflies as beautiful as her and
Almost as dangerous.
Once they realized
She left me behind
The carnivorous little devils
Ate me alive
From the inside out,
Their bites hurt almost as much as her
Silence.
I haven't seen her in months
And the butterflies are dying
Their rotting corpses
Thud to the ground
Next to my broken heart.
As the silence screams at me
The last butterfly dies
And I am almost free
But once again she reaches out
And grabs my heart
Her claws tearing me apart
Then her butterflies stitch me back together
once again.
Love is not a gift
