Back then, whenever I see you,
My stomach flutters and my cheeks turns into a red hue
It was like the butterflies
         are singing and dancing gracefully at the sight of you

But now, the butterflies turn into wasps
That whenever I see you, I am losing my grasp
Eating my whole system
          and instead of love, an excruciating pain

look at me like I'm the star that shines
   the brightest
like I'm the only one who puts your patience into tests

give me back the words that used to
   comfort me
retrieve the tears that fell down when
   it shouldn't be

let the butterflies fly again
   and prove me why you should be my
   man

Butterflies spilled forth from her mouth,
Like the promises I’d only dreamt to ever desire,
          And just as heavily, entered the chains,
          Bags to promise scars atop soil, long walks.

So come the tilling, the cull and the harvest
When merchants meet maidens, ***** hands wave
          And having seen the second fracture,
          At least I could share in the shouldering.

But the butterflies, eventually to crisp and husk
Under sun, stench and eventual ends prior Eden,
          Dull blades and edges broken
          Like the backs of those that believed before;

She’d be granted her wings, her winds and pomp,
Like the nights in Matamoros had promised –
          Leaving me the luggage and at the least,
          A scent of what love could mean.

You feel a storm in your stomach,
It fumbles your insides
And pours down your face

But I'm cold now as I sit in the dryness
butterflies rainbows unicorns mermaids flowers anchors skulls puppies clouds razors and darkness- it fills never a bit of me. Summer trouble is like no season I have known, my anxious bowels can't seem to move to places I don't know, but weir the water is, my tears don't make a metaphor, but for the tomorrow, I'll wear that honor.

Smoking troubled teens, move their small hands up my pants in my rainbow smoking jacket, I'm younger in minds my feet barely tread. As solitude troubles some, I grieve in my lover's arms, I stitch a sorrow through tomorrow.

Belief takes too much work. Your lies are everything. I pretend to sway, with the parade in my brain.

there were butterflies
that once flew around
behind my rib cage
every time i would see you
or when you were mentioned,
but it wasn't long before
the butterflies didn't see
the light of day
and, one by one,
they died.

now,
behind the dusty rib cage
in my body
there's several dead butterflies
that once held so much
meaning in each one,
too much time has passed
and when you finally came around again,
they were all dead.

i had to do damage control
when you left the first time,
i cracked open my
own rib cage and
picked up each butterfly
to give them a proper burial,
one that you never gave me
when you thought you had enough
and decided to just leave.

Scene: You were standing in a field with lots of lovely wildflowers.
There was blood everywhere,
A gallon and a half,
(to be almost exact)
And she was pale-
Like the moon,
If you want to be cliché, if not
maybe a piece of mozzarella
Ha! (What a cheesy metaphor!)
She was Still
Still
Still
But she was not Still breathing
Her lungs were ice, you can't
Catch your breath with a frozen chest.
So there she was lying in the sun,
Absolutely and totally covered in blood
And here they come-
the butterflies.
Growing up you saw pictures
of butterflies, sitting on flowers,
you probably even learned about their life cycle.
And when you got older someone told you

Hey! Did you know butterflies drink blood too?

And maybe you did know that and maybe you didn't, but the important part is that it's true and you probably haven't put much thought into it. I mean why would you?

anyway, my point.

The butterflies come and they perch on her arms, and chest, and eyes.
They rest, and they drink, and they live just a little bit longer and soon she is absolutely covered head to toe and you can't see her pale moon face, you just have to imagine that her body is under this chaotic blob, and more of them are coming and now all of them are fighting, and you never even thought that this was possible,
and now they're hitting each other and falling and dying and you, the luckiest soul gets to watch the battle of the butterflies.

The terrible grace of beauty under pressure.

Your eyes meet mine;
Your lips kiss mine;
Your breath breathes mine;
Your hand holds mine;
Your love loves mine;
Your words rhyme mine;
Your shadow mimics mine;
It feels like everything that is yours is mine

Mine,
This is a crazy thing, a crazy ups and downs
An emotional roller coaster, bents and breaks
There is an urge inside my chest—screaming
Because it carves your name for the very first time
It feels like everything that is mine is no longer mine—but yours.