"Moving is like dying"
Empty pasts haunt
the reborn body.
Minds colaps and form
new beautiful butterflies.
The more moving,
the more broken wings.
The butterflies stop flying
and start crying.
The hottest tears
for all the years.
The future becomes terrifying.

You leave me in a flutter,
Butterflies run rampant in my stomach.
This state of ascension,
Just by the mere presence of your attention.

These conversations leave me afloat.
Adrift on an ocean of thought,
Where nothing real feels of note,
And reality means naught.

This moment of mesmerism,
Holding my heart, my mind, my soul.
And I'll replay my actions
Like the motions of a mechanism.
Falling into the same state,
Feeling as is if it's butterflies I've ate.

A thousand monarchs sit upon their thrones
Side by side, flashing their wings now and then.
Gusts of wind blow through and shake their bones.
A monarch falls from his throne to his end.

Time flies and the seasons change
A million monarch’s sit upon their thrones.
Wind blows a fierce kiss within their range
Two monarch’s fall with shouts and groans.

The monarchs’ thrones have grown
Their borders reaching far and wide.
The winds of change have now flown
Calling the monarch’s to abide.

Time flies and the seasons change
A billion monarchs have wistfully flown
They, stretching their wings of age,
Now leave bare their once beautiful thrones.

The branches they once sat upon
Now stripped and bare, lay susceptible
To the wind’s every whim, rarely fond.
The branches hang alone as a crucible.

Time flies and the seasons change.
The monarchs have left their thrones
Have left the constant for a change.
To the ground to wait, they have flown.

Under the night's breath, I watched the butterflies on the wall,
remembering in silence my long-gone years of youth
when my wings were fully-coloured as the rainbow in fall,
and the world still believed in honest love and the truth.

Thousands of butterflies, they knew how to keep a secret
counting moments, not years, giving us so much emotion,
continuing their dream on St. Valentine's wings, they don't quit
extinguishing my thirsty soul with the waves of the ocean.

Where are you, where is the pure love from yesteryear?
Flying from flower to flower, where did you leave your legacy?
Do you want to settle in my raven hair like a hairpin
or you want me to be the only scenographer of your jealousy?

You're not a butterfly unless you get rid of the moths of the past,
if you do not solve the life's equation with many unknowns.
If you still believe in mute gestures that are growing fast,
let's decorate the night together with the love in our bones.

When he looks you in the eye,
You see nothing but mischief.
A devious smirk plays across his lips
As he opens his mouth to flirt
In the only way he knows how.
He throws out a taunt with a small chuckle
And a glint in his gaze.
You smile and shake your head,
For this is the game you two play,
And although you hate to love it
You take a moment
To formulate your cunning response.
It must be playful, and not too hurtful.
After all,
You know how you both struggle
at determining just when
Too far is too far.

After a few rounds
His last jab strikes a nerve.
Your smile dissipates
And his miscalculation is made evident.
You turn away,
just like that the game is over for the day.
He regrets it, that much is clear,
But when it comes to games
Sometimes you win, and
Sometimes you lose.

As you stand to leave
He leans in close, so close his cologne
tickles your nose
“I’ll still see you tonight, yes?”
The words roll off his tongue like honey,
Leaving a sticky sweet taste in your mouth.
Your heart bounds,
And you’re fighting back a grin
As you nod and push past him.
You take a deep breath,
and exhale the butterflies
that seem to always reside
when he is near.

His love
Didn't feel crazy
Like butterflies and birds fluttering in my stomach
But rather tranquil
Like a blooming rose

Little fireflies flowing through the wind,
Twirling, swirling all the way in,
Through seep settled fog,
And a brief counter bog,
They shine a temporary light,
That makes the night seem bright;

Little butterflies flowing through the wind,
Up and down, and up and down they go flying in,
Bringing nectar to flowers and a show for others,
They go on and never bring bothers,
Instead they give the gift of colors,
To show the world the true making of their collars;

Little birdies flowing through the wind,
Twisting and turning through the passage of the bend,
They do not pay mind to the watching souls,
They rather bring joy to the newborn foals,
This proves their life has power,
Never do they have to show their cower;

Little gifts of life flowing through the wind,
Plowing through the sunny sky out of their whim,
Providing their bodies as a source of show,
Continuing their flights for the peoples bow,
Filling themselves with joyful laughter,
That we shall not bring to shatter.

my happiest moment:
when I became a laughter
in your fruity lips<3
<3