You are a story that I write
Since the age of five
Since I saw that butterfly
Landing on my finger
I kept my breath
So she wouldn’t fly
Away like the rest of my dreams
For a moment longer
I could have been dead
But I never thought of that
As I exhaled
I scared her off and she was gone
Quicker than the image of my first kiss
With the frog I thought would turn into prince
But it didn’t
Who am I to dream
But a wounded soul
Trying to tell a story
Since the age of five
when I saw that butterfly