The space between each breath and beat,
is vacant now, a hollowed nest.
Where once wings fluttered soft and meek,
dust now settles down to rest.
The raider knew not of my plight.
With twisted key, she opened wide
the place where butterflies take flight;
the cage in which my heart resides.
The butterflies they danced and flew.
Some filled the mouth with words unsaid.
But lips were sealed, so numbers grew;
the crowding forced them out instead.
The ripple of their wings fell still,
their sprightly quiver fled my chest.
She drew them out, with time and skill.
I spat out love; truth wrapped in jest.
When all was said, the flutter waned
From love to hate, the din grew weak.
Though her hold lessened, her face remained
in the space between each breath and beat.
