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Preet Mar 2021
My Home....
The shield I had over my emotions was broke,
I turned around, consumed by fear of losing control over the last threads.
But,
He pulled me into his arms and hugged me close.
The intoxicating smell of him lingered in my mind,
I immediately relaxed in those strong arms.
The melodies rhythm of his heart was cherry on the top,
and I felt drifting away.
"Feeling better now, my Lil' fighter," He asked.
His voice was just above a whisper,
but that baritone voice sent a shiver to my spine.
I looked into his eyes,
His hypnotic gaze held my own.
His hands touched my ******* and I instantly felt butterflies swirling around my stomach.
He smiled, bemused by mischievous acts of his own and my reaction.
He came closer and joined his forehead to mine and said
"I always with you, no matter what."
That moment I knew, I found it,
My Home!
lua Mar 2021
let me tend to the butterflies in my stomach
so when you step into my world
you'll see a garden full of colour.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
You always give me butterflies.
Won’t you take them away?
I find it nearly impossible to think when my heart is beating to the rhythm of their gossamer wings.
And it’s all because of you.
This poem was written in 2017.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
The thought of you asking me to be your valentine sent butterflies up my spine and they went crazy in my stomach.

It's so funny, though, because you have been my valentine for so long already, and somehow you still leave my heart feeling completely and utterly enchanted.
This mini poem was written in 2016.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
You weren't the butterflies in my stomach —no, you were the ache
in my chest.
You were the lust in my eyes and the longing in my bones.
And there's nothing I can do to shake the stinging feeling of
wasps one my skin, in the places you should be.
Check out the other poems in the "Butterflies" series!
This poem was written in 2016.
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
I've had a hole
growing in
my stomach for
days.
Butterflies are
wrapped up
in the ribbon
in your
tapes, and
they come inside
and tie
confused
little knots around
my bones.
Check out the other poems in the "Butterflies" series!
This poem was written in 2016
Payton Hayes Feb 2021
Every breath, a weight
on my chest, reluctantly
comes, being chased
only by my
quickening pulse.
A knife slips between
my ribs and with
every word that passes over my lips, it
twists.
A silent scream is trapped
behind my teeth.
Butterflies with knives
are cutting up
my insides.


Found poem from Automatic Loveletter's song "Butterflies"
Check out the other poems in the "Butterflies" series.
This is a found poem. The lyrics at the bottom are not my concept.
This poem was written in 2016.
Sara Brummer Feb 2021
The open air is dense and blue,
grass suspended in green.
This is how wings work
in the mystery of the wind :
looping, swooping, exuding
colored energy.

Flashing black and orange
in grand expanding, then landing--
feather light to pollinate the latest
blossom, when all that is seen
is quivering and shivering.

The magic superlative –
streaming, beaming jubilation.
Mistress of the meadows, symphony
of flight, your presence a drop
of heavenly fire, your disappearance,
a brilliant treasure buried forever.
Nina Feb 2021
Roses are painted black,
Violets aren't always blue,
I thought you loved me back,
and you don't know what you put me through...

I was talking about you, like all day...
to everyone and every time...
I painted you on the wall of my room
with roses and velvet night.

I was talking about you, like the whole night...
at stars and the full moon in Leo...
I hugged your portrait on my room's wall
that I painted
and I thought you were talking about me too.

my heart was full of red space
and my stomach was full of butterflies...
I have baked your favorite cake,
because I thought you wanted me in that velvet night.

They said that happiness is a butterfly,
but we met in December,
there was a cold and blue morning sky
and I remember that aesthetic forever.

Roses are painted black,
Violets aren't always blue,
I thought you loved me back,
and you don't know what you put me through...

People born in March are sensitive
but you were cold and mean,
My sun is in Aquarius
and I am the only one who can feel.

I am the only one who can feel butterflies,
and I felt more when I saw you,
I am a sensitive flower full of sun kisses,
lovely bees and the blue sky too.

All I wanted was a black painted rose,
violets and lavenders with your kind smile,
but you hate flowers and colors of love,
and you never smile, you laugh sarcastically...

Roses aren't painted black,
Violets aren't always blue,
I wish to take the time back
for what? you don't have a clue.

You left me heartbroken
and my scars full of the tears
our love is already over
and my feelings are my only fear.

I hope I don't feel the same to anyone,
and I hope butterflies won't leave me there.
but if I do I hope I won't be the only one,
who sees love colors and paints roses black.
I hate that I felt love. I hate that I turn foolish and sad person.
Emma Pratt Feb 2021
i have butterflies
every single one unique in its own way
beautiful delicate wings
with intricate patterns and a variety of colors

each individually carved from stone
by the anxious claws that embed themselves into my skin

i focus on those butterflies
if only to distract me
from my thoughts in my head
from my tingling fingers turning numb
from my pounding heart
and from the air that is no longer in my lungs

i focus on those butterflies
on the way their rough wings scrape along the inside of my stomach
their screams from being crushed by those sharpened claws
and the heavy
sickening feeling
they leave behind
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