You say you don't believe in magic,

 Is because you've not been lost into someone's eyes,

 And felt your heart thumping against the chest,

 Or watched the blue butterflies stretching out their wings,

 As an arrow of feelings pierced through your flesh and bones,

 And you haven't heard your lungs pleading for some space,

 And slamming against the cages that you used to call ribs,

 Is because your butterfly died ages before your eyes held an embrace.