You once set loose
an army of butterflies
swarming into my stomach
by simply parting your lips
and pushing out every beautiful word
I’d ever wanted to hear.
This happened again,
until one day,
they filled up every cavern of my stomach
and slowly overflowed into my veins.
Those butterflies carried your love,
and I let them loose through my body because I trusted you.
For a while I lived in complete and utter blind ecstasy
from shooting your love up my veins
and those butterflies drove me insane
in the most beautiful and peaceful kind of insanity
brought on by so much naive happiness.
I can’t remember when,
you began neglecting the butterflies that filled me
from my toes to the smug smile on my face.
I slowly felt those loving butterflies freeze,
and become something else as their wings
—once so delicate and soft enough to tickle me
from the inside and create some sort of euphoric bliss—
became frigid, icy glass shards that slowly began to cut through my veins
and rip me apart from the inside out
until they sliced through my heart just like you did
all because you decided to stop loving me.