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Yani Oct 2018
Why
Why am I smiling
With a look never ending
Without such reason
I found myself in a season.

Why is my heart tickled
With a swift increasing rhythm
You were just walking near,
I heard your loud chuckles.

Why do I consider your voice a music,
Your hairstyle ultra fantastic
As you look unto my eyes,
Time freezes like an ice.

Why do I look crazy staring at your dimples
Studying your face, haven't found any pimple
Oh, please don't use that smile of yours
I'm not ready to fall down from these stairs.
Alienpoet Oct 2018
Broken hearts
fresh leather
you break my heart
like an stiletto on an egg shell
and yet the hell you give
is to leave your voice live in my head
and I still love you
it’s blood red
like my heart
and I still know I love you cause
I have butterflies in my heart and stomach
whenever I see you I am flummoxed.
Gemma Davies Oct 2018
Snowflakes are the butterflies of winter...
Floating around, pretty and light.
The more of them that drift around...
The more beautiful the sight.

Snowflakes are the butterflies of winter...
They make even the messiest garden, shine.
No matter if the flakes are thick and heavy...
Or just a light dusting that's small and fine.

Snowflakes are the butterflies of winter...
Gliding through the skies, uncaged and free.
Only resting when the winds conclude...
Gently resting on every roof, hill or tree.

Snowflakes are the butterflies of winter...
Only present for such a short while.
A flying visit, and then they're gone...
But they sure do leave a smile.

Snowflakes are the butterflies of winter...
Making your garden glisten and glow.
They go wherever they please...
And please wherever they go.
My poem was lovingly made into a 'Me to You Bear' video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GulINtYWOpQ
Haley Oct 2018
Hesitant, reaching out and wondering
Eyes lock, the tension escalating
Pull back, too shy to continue blundering,
This beautiful moment of anticipation.

Sparks are flying, fires burning bright
Fluttering of butterflies spread
The constant reaction simply on sight
Breath stutters to a stop, nervously wanting.

Then suddenly, both are in the same sphere,
No beginning or end of one or the other.
One soul, one body, the melding clear.
Love is a beautiful imperfect thing.

Love is old as time, yet new and unique
No rhyme or reason, color or creed.
Strong and clear in the face of critique,
It is always worth fighting for.
Shadow Dragon Oct 2018
"Moving is like dying"
Empty pasts haunt
the reborn body.
Minds collapse 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.
Kushal Oct 2018
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.
Hannah Chin Oct 2018
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.
Irina BBota Oct 2018
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.
aury Oct 2018
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.
As they say, the flutter of a butterflies wings can set a hurricane in motion.
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