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lani-forondaPoems
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.
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Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
Butterflies
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.
January16,2014/June24,2014
#love#feelings#highschool#nervous#relationship#butterflies#stomach#senioryear
lani-foronda
Written by
lani-foronda
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 4:16 PM UTC
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