No Butterflies Left

When I think of you butterflies flap through my body,
breaking my bones and scarring my skin in the process.

When you talk about how much you adore other
people the butterflies die leaving the shards
of their wings digging into my heart.

Now though, the butterflies are very much alive
and crashing against my ribs begging to be let out.

—————————-
Thank you for your feedback!!!