It's not as much butterflies in my stomach anymore.
They've migrated to my throat,
Choking me off.
I want to say something beautiful
Paint a picture of eloquence that would take your breath away,
But apparently I'm the one lacking air.
What used to fill my whole being with a flush anticipation
Has caused a fickle for my respiration.
Under the cluster of wings in my throat
I feel each movement-
The hum of so called life
(But will I still be living when I lack air?).
These butterflies have lone gone from wonderful and turned
Disastrous.
It makes me wonder how something so beautifully fragile could turn so
Deadly.