sometimes it doesn’t feel like butterflies. when I’m sitting in english class and my arms are shaking and my hands are clammy and all I can think is what if what if what if.
sometimes it doesn’t feel like butterflies. sometimes it feels like slugs and snails and centipedes that crawl. like spiders and caterpillars
I don’t know why people call it butterflies because it isn’t pretty or colourful.
Around every corner, I hope to see you. Not that I will ever speak, Or you shall ever answer. But to see you, Even just a glance, Fills my heart with flames And makes my hands shake, Longing to hold What was never mine.